The Drums Of Heaven
by Sol1056
Summary: yaoi Five years after Mariemaia, Heero meets up again with the only people he ever considered friends... but Duo and Trowa have disappeared into the underworld. When did the world go wrong?
1. sight of my reflection

**27 Jan 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

I caught sight of my reflection  
I caught it in the window  
I saw the darkness in my heart  
I saw the signs of my undoing  
They had been there from the start  
― Peter Gabriel 

"She'll be there in a half-hour," Bernie was saying. "Have you even taken a shower yet?" 

Heero glowered at the vidscreen, refusing to even dignify the question with a response. 

"Come off it, Yuy," the man teased. "Either let her get at least one good shot for the press releases, or I'll send someone over to steal something from your mantel." 

The young man bristled at the thought. No one could break into his apartment, he assured himself, not with his precautions. Perhaps one person, he thought momentarily, but then reminded himself that idiot wasn't likely to be on his agent's payroll. Heero had had enough of annoying roommates while at university, until he decided it was worth the extra money to have his own space. Hell, if he'd had a roommate at this point, Bernie probably would've already bribed the person into digging through all of Heero's private belongings. 

"Look, I'll talk to the publisher." 

Bernie had first discovered Heero's talent in a sophomore showing at the School of Design, and since then had managed to weasel the ex-pilot's pictures into showings back on Earth as well as at some prestigious galleries on L1, L3 and L4. Now, with the publication of a collection of Heero's photographs, there was the real possibility of becoming a big name in the art photography world. 

When Heero didn't respond, Bernie sighed. "I don't think the picture of your camera is really going to do the trick." 

"Why not?" Heero knew he sounded petulant. But it was eight in the morning standard time, and he wasn't interested in dealing with a second-rate photographer ordering him around in his personal space. 

Bernie sighed. "Fine, I'll talk to them again. But, man, this is Taschen. They can make or break us. If they want a picture of you standing on your head wearing a beanie and dressed like a German yodeler, I say we give it to them." 

That got a wry grin from Heero, who shook his head. "It's wasting time I could spend in the darkroom." 

"Which is wasting time you could be spending taking another sixteen rolls," Bernie retorted. It was an old bone of contention between them that Heero insisted on using an archaic system of photography. Despite Bernie's repeated offers and bribes, Heero consistently ignored the miniature digital devices that could produce quality images, even when blown up to wall-size. 

Heero point-blank refused to put down the antique medium-format view camera; all of Bernie's annual gifts of the latest digital cameras were still in their boxes in the apartment's storage unit. Heero understood the intent and was thus loathe to get rid of them, but he still refused to even consider taking even a lowly snapshot with them. They didn't feel right. He needed to hear that click of the shutter, that solid chunk as the film rolled forward into the next frame. The only reason he'd tolerated Bernie's good-natured teasing so long was because Bernie, on some unspoken level, understood this as well. 

"Whatever," Heero finally replied, his eyes drifting to the prints hanging on the clothesline strung across his studio apartment. "Talk to them again, then. I don't want my own face in there." 

"You're the weirdest, you know that?" Bernie sighed, then nodded, his wrinkled face creasing deeper as he leaned forward into the camera and grinned at the Japanese man. "But I still think you'd look cute as a German yodeler." 

"Shut up," the young man told him, his eyebrow raised as he leaned forward, breaking off the connection. Heero combed his unruly hair with his fingers, considering, and was out of his chair in a heartbeat, grabbing his coat as he headed out the door. Being unavailable might stall the issue long enough that Taschen would settle for his anti-self-portrait. 

Besides, the camera was all that mattered, Heero reminded himself, locking the door behind him. He was simply the finger that pressed the shutter, the hand that swiveled the viewfinder, the eye that measured the depth of field, the mind that calculated for light. The camera did the real work. He was only the tool. 

* * *

Three days later Heero found himself trapped in his studio apartment, forced to deal with Bernie face-to-face. The older man was leaning against the table, perusing the few personal pictures he'd pried from Heero's resisting fingers. Heero stood sullenly at the side, irritated about the intrusion but reluctant to risk losing the deal with Taschen. 

"Look, this picture." Bernie pointed at one of the framed shots. "Who took this?" 

Heero shrugged and thought about the fact that Bernie so often started statements with the word 'look'. Like a photographer needs to be told to do that, he thought absently, confident that none of the pictures would suffice as a headshot. Bernie was hovering over one in particular, however, and it was making the hair on the back of Heero's neck stand on end. 

"This one," Bernie repeated. "Earth to Heero. Well, actually, L1 to Heero." Bernie waved a picture at the younger man, who immediately scowled. The agent flipped the frame over, prying the casing open and slipping the picture out in a deft move before Heero could react. Bernie's brown eyes widened as he read the inscription. 

"Qua... Winner? The Winner?" Bernie glanced at Heero's stiff shoulders, a little surprised. "You never told me you knew the head of the Winner Corporation." 

"So?" 

"Yeah, I see how you are." Bernie grinned, flipping the picture back over. It showed a much younger Heero, standing behind another boy. The one in the foreground was grinning, a little wickedly; looking out from under tousled bangs that hung down in his face. Heero was standing behind him, one arm draped over the shorter boy's shoulder, the other arm wrapped around the other boy's waist. Both boys seemed completely at ease with each other. 

    Bernie studied the shot, glancing up to raise an eyebrow at Heero's glower before dropping his eyes to the image again. The younger Heero was glowering at the camera, but not in a malicious way, and Heero scowled as Bernie gave the image a fond smile. 

"Mike could work it over, zero in just on you," the agent offered. His brown hands held the picture delicately, at the edges, as he studied the image carefully. "Could be done." 

"No." 

"Didn't think you'd agree," Bernie replied, smoothly, no break visible in his demeanor as he grinned at Heero. "Just like seeing you get all prickly." 

Heero grunted, annoyed. 

"Reminds me that you're human." 

"I am human." Heero scowled, grabbing his teacup from the table before he realized it was empty. "I just don't like pictures of myself." 

"This is one of only two pictures with you in the shot," Bernie observed, a little quieter. "Must be some reason you kept it." 

"Just never bothered to throw it away," the younger man replied. His blue eyes glared at the image for a second before he turned away to refill his cup. 

"Really? Here. Throw it away," Bernie taunted, offering the picture, lying across his palm like an offering. 

Heero stared at it for a long second before shaking his head. "Maybe later." 

"Right." Skeptical, Bernie dropped the picture back on the desk with a sigh. "Look, I've got the pre-publication reviews in, if you want to look them over. I've picked out some good lead comments for the back jacket, but thought you might like to see if there's any others you like." 

Heero regarded his agent suspiciously, still nettled about the snapshot. Finally he nodded, once, curtly. 

Bernie grinned again, irrepressible, and slapped his briefcase on the table, next to the stack of framed images, chattering as he snapped the case open and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "This has the pull quotes, and this folder contains the letters and forward reviews. Some have already been published. The press so far has been good. Great, even. When we do that international tour through the museums, it'll only get better. More so if Taschen's got the book out by then." 

Five minutes later, civilities exchanged and teacups put away, Heero shut the door behind Bernie and settled down to read the reviews. He scanned the first two, unimpressed to read the second reviewer parroting the first one nearly word-for-word. Plagiarism still exists, he thought, his eyes drifting up to the latest images drying on the line. But then, he reminded himself, I'm doing the same as people have done since time began. He wondered if Rembrandt felt the same way, looking over his sketches, or Avedon, Mapplethorpe, and Elliot, in the heyday of portraiture. 

All of them, he mused, simply saw what was already there, which no one else had bothered to notice. 

Sighing, Heero turned his attention to the third review. 

_Yuy, coming out of nowhere after the wars – who goes by the strange Old Japanese appellation of Hito, which simply means 'person' – creates images that force us to accept the anonymity of observation... _

Heero snorted. More crap. He flipped to the next review. 

_Despite the beauty of the ancient art form he's chosen, Yuy keeps his distance, allowing his subjects the dignity of expressing themselves, while the austere black-and-white format exposes his subjects to a harsh scrutiny. Businessmen, housewives, dockworkers, pilots, prostitutes are all laid bare yet retain some undeniable individuality... _

The young man pushed the papers away from him in disgust. Psychobabble. Bernie could pick what he wanted, Heero decided. None of the reviewers had even the remotest inkling of what he was doing, anyway. They were too busy paying attention to the images themselves. None of them were willing to step back and look at all of them as a whole, as an entire body of work. 

Heero leaned back in his chair, idly fingering the picture frames piled on the table. Without even meaning to, his fingers latched onto Quatre's lone photograph, dragging it across the surface and lifting it up to stare at it. Who was that other person? Who was that younger version of him? Who were those people that had been standing just outside the frame? Where did they go? Where did he go? 

Now, here he was, trying desperately to reach that point again, and all the reviewers could talk about was whether the photographer was aloof. They never saw the movement towards, only away, saying he was putting a camera between himself and those in front of him. 

Of course, Heero thought, derisive, as he frowned and dropped the picture. Photographers by definition require the use of a camera between themselves and their subjects, but that didn't mean he was separated from those he photographed. He was inextricably linked, once the image was created, because it was him, and only him, who had been there. His lip curled, a wry private laugh at his own secret longing, considering his belief in where he stood as related to the camera. 

He had chosen 'hito' as a pseudonym because the publisher insisted he couldn't just use Yuy. No single-word authors, especially when so common a name, they said. You want common, he'd thought at the time, I'll give you common. John Q. Public, he thought, bemused. Person Yuy. Random photographer. Insert photographer here, and anyone could take these pictures. It wasn't the images. It was the reason. 

He wanted to build a world of people, a series of memories and realities, where these people were born, lived and died, all in good time. Nothing cut short, nothing ending too soon. Their celluloid images would be immortal, unlike those whose lives had drifted away in the smoke and fire of battles and war: for every death too soon, an image to last forever. 

Or maybe, Heero considered briefly, it's all the same thing. Always something between my victims – my subjects – and myself, he mused. Maybe I really am only the tool. 

* * *

When the vidphone rang, Heero was rinsing a batch of negatives. He frowned at the timer, tapped the case against the sink three times, and immediately began turning it, letting the negatives get slowly doused in a series of flushing movements. Turn, count to five, turn, count to five. The vidphone rang a second time, and he hit the button. 

"Yuy." 

"Heero?" Quatre's voice. It was a little deeper, a little smoother, but unmistakably Quatre. 

The photographer nearly lost count, startled. Turn, count to five... was that five? Blinking, he checked the timer and turned the case again. 

"Why is the screen off?" The voice came again, and Heero stared at the blank vidphone, just barely recollecting that it was turned off to prevent light from damaging his negatives if he answered the phone while printing. 

"I'm in the darkroom," he finally replied. 

"Oh." 

Heero had no idea what to say, and was suddenly glad for the lack of a screen. 

"Your agent contacted me," Quatre offered after a short pause, hesitant. "He said you wanted permission to reprint a picture I took." 

"He did?" Heero sighed. Figures. "No, I don't need permission." 

"Excuse me?" 

"I mean, we're not using the picture." Count to five, turn, count to five, turn. 

"Oh." 

Heero could practically hear Quatre chewing on his lower lip, and the Japanese man bit back a smile before he remembered the screen was off. 

"How are you doing?" Quatre asked, softly. "Haven't heard from you in... a long time." 

"Five years." 

"Yes." Another sigh, barely heard over the swishing of the chemicals, coursing through the case, soothing the negative into a stark capture of reality. 

"I went to design school." 

"That's what... Bernie, was it? Your agent...said something about a book coming out..." 

"Communication." 

"Excuse me?" 

"The book. It's called Communication." Heero wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, checked the timer, and lifted the lightproof cap from the case. The pink liquid percolated from the lid, swirling around the sink, sliding away down the drain. "It comes out in two months, maybe three." 

"You traveling to support it? Doing gallery showings?" Quatre's voice sounded unexpectedly hopeful. Heero wondered at that, when the other man could probably afford to travel around the world five times and consider the expense a day's spare change. 

"Maybe," the photographer hedged. "I'm not really in charge of the itinerary." 

"I see." Quatre's tone, however, said quite clearly that he didn't see. 

Heero struggled to find his voice, amazed to realize he was reluctant to break off the conversation. He turned the water on, a thin trickle, and let it seep into the negative case through the lid's holes. "How are you doing?" He hoped his voice sounded casual. His heart was thumping rapidly. 

"Fine," came the response, a little brighter. "I've been working with the Interstellar League, doing peace-keeping work. Unofficial diplomat." 

"What about..." Heero struggled to find the words. "Your family's company?" 

"I broke it up about three years ago, divided it among my sisters and myself. A kind of diversification, you might say." Quatre sounded amused. 

"So things are going well?" The water was pouring over the top of the case, and Heero belatedly shut off the tap. Three thumps against the sink, and he began flipping it again. Count to five, turn. Count to five, turn. 

"Mostly." 

"You keep in touch with everyone else?" 

"I see Wufei pretty regularly." 

Heero was startled. He expected to hear Trowa's name, or perhaps Duo's, but Wufei? The dark-haired man was puzzled, and took a minute, turning the negative case a bit while he pondered Quatre's comment. "What's he doing?" 

"Already in graduate school, working on interstellar political conflict resolution, and the applications of absolute pacifism as developed by Gandhi." Quatre rattled the explanation off as though it were memorized. 

Heero chuckled. "That all?" Turn, count to five. 

"Pretty much." 

"Ah." He studied the case in his hands, and shrugged. "I have to go, Quatre. I'm in the middle of developing negatives and it's going to get noisy in a second when I throw these into the wash." 

He knew he could ask Quatre to hold. It would only take a few minutes, and the call was on the other man's dime, but he wasn't certain he really wanted to turn on the vidphone. He didn't want to see Quatre's face, and let it drive home just how long it'd been since he'd turned his back on everyone. 

"That's fine." Quatre's voice had sunk back into the deeper registers; a tone that Heero realized was probably Quatre's diplomat's voice: polite, gentle. Not so cold as to be unfriendly, but definitely not the higher-pitched excitement that had been in his voice at the beginning of the call. "If you do any gallery showings in London, look me up." 

"I will." 

Heero disconnected the call without further comments. Somewhere inside he knew if he didn't end it then, he'd stay online, hoping silently that Quatre would tell him everything. Where is everyone? What are they doing? When they stepped out of the camera's frame, did they go on living? Do they care that he didn't? 

* * *

Five months later, and it was late fall on Earth. Heero regarded the sky with something akin to distrust, having grown too used to L1's more temperate and regularly scheduled weather patterns. His mood wasn't improved by the growing suspicion that Parisian taxi drivers were using him as target practice. Stepping onto the curb as he narrowly missed yet another speeding vehicle, he cursed under his breath as his cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID. Bernie. 

"What now?" 

"Hey, is that anyway to greet your favorite agent?" Bernie's voice sounded self-righteously indignant. 

"You're my only agent." 

"And I love you for it. Gotta a favor to ask you." 

"No." 

"I haven't even told you yet." 

Heero navigated around a clump of high school girls, and glared at a flower seller until the woman backed away, her eyes wide. His camera bag was heavier in Earth's gravity, and he shifted the pack against his hip. "Fine. Tell me, and then I'll tell you no." 

"Look, Yuy, Taschen's let you out of showing up at nearly every gallery exhibit so far. At some point you're going to need to make an appearance, at least once." 

"Why does anyone want to see me?" Heero glanced up at the street sign and took a right. He was pretty sure his hotel was down this street, and the light had been perfect for photographs all day. Now he had six rolls spent and all he wanted was to take a shower and a nap. "The photographs are what's important." 

"Consider this a personal favor to me. I think you really should attend this one." 

"I'm still not happy about you contacting Mr. Winner." 

"You're bringing that up again?" Bernie was disbelieving, with a note of long-suffering joking underneath. "And he didn't consider you Mr. Yuy, I'll remind you." 

Heero gritted his teeth, switching the camera bag to his other shoulder, and tucked the phone between his shoulder and his ear. Remind me for the hundredth time, he thought. 

"Tonight, eight o'clock. I'll send directions to the hotel. Be there, and I promise you won't have to do anything more than show up for the installations at the next three museums." 

"I'll consider it." 

"Don't just consider it," Bernie said. His voice was taking on a more serious note; one that Heero knew meant Bernie was willing to fight over this one. The problem was, the photographer wasn't sure what the fight was about. 

"Shut up," Heero said, and ended the call. He glanced around the street, and grimaced. His hotel wasn't on this street. Giving up, he hailed the first maniac taxi he saw. 

* * *

When the taxi dropped him off at precisely eight o'clock, Heero steeled himself for a night of droning pseudo-philosophical crap about photography by idiots who had never held a negative. Or worse, joking idiots from the publishing company who thought it just hilarious that his idea of a photographer's headshot was a picture of his antique camera. 

Heero stood on the sidewalk and regarded the Parisian townhouse with no little suspicion, then hefted the camera bag. Hotel security and safety deposit boxes be damned, he wasn't going anywhere without his gear. It was a quiet neighborhood, the streetlamps glowing softly in the late fall, but his skin crawled, as though someone were watching him. Glancing around once, he set his jaw and headed up the steps. 

He paused, before knocking, startled by his reflection in the door's glass pane. Sometimes it surprised him that he was older, but a day of lugging equipment around a polluted city didn't wear off with one shower, and the weary lines around his eyes and mouth only heightened the impression. He scowled at the way his fingers suddenly itched to do something about his hair, tousled and hanging in his eyes again. His gaze traveled across the reflection, and he took measure of himself, starkly, as though composing an image: broad shoulders and muscular build under the casual button-up shirt and light sports coat, narrowing down to slim hips and long legs in khaki pants. Heero shook his head at himself, and knocked. 

The door was opened immediately to reveal a tall gentleman in a dark suit. Heero was amazed when the man took his coat but didn't ask to take his bag. Definitely people from Taschen, he decided. They're the only ones sensitive enough to understand photographer idiosyncrasies. Satisfied, he followed the man into the front parlor. It was a second before he registered who had risen to greet him. 

Quatre, Wufei... and Relena. 

Heero froze, caught in the doorway, and it was several seconds before Quatre spoke. His eyes were as sky-blue as the last time Heero had seen them, five years before. 

"Heero," he said. "You made it." 

"Yes," Heero replied, awkward. His heart was pounding, too fast, and he took a moment to focus on calming his respiration and heart rate. 

"We're glad," Quatre replied, stepping forward. He wasn't offering his hand to shake, Heero realized. Instead, Quatre was beckoning him to be seated. "I wasn't sure... did Bernie tell you we'd be having dinner?" 

No, he didn't, Heero thought crossly. He also didn't mention I was being tricked into dinner with three people I've not seen in years. Heero settled for shrugging as a response, trying to appear nonchalant and wondering if he was failing. 

Quatre picked up the sentiment easily, and flushed. "Bernie was very gracious to make a space in your schedule to visit," he continued. 

"You look like you've been doing well," Relena interjected. Her blue eyes were large, glancing back and forth between Heero and Quatre. 

Heero blinked, registering their height difference, and that Quatre was now an inch taller than his own height of five-ten. The corner of his lips twitched up. "Quatre," he said. "You've grown." 

"So did you," Quatre replied sweetly. "Just not as much." 

Wufei laughed, a startling sound. The Chinese scholar's hair was down, reaching past his shoulders, and his height was equal with Heero's. "It's gone to his head," Wufei said. "Ignore him." 

"He's nearly as tall as Trowa, now," Relena confided, then halted. There was a flash of something across her face, but it was gone too quickly for Heero to identify. When she looked at Heero again, the smile was back on her face. 

Quatre looked off into the house at movement in the next room and nodded, turning back to the group with a smile. "Dinner's ready." 

* * *

Dinner was a small affair, and Heero tried to appear at ease, given that he had no idea where to begin or what to say. That single expression on Relena's face, gone in a split second, had been warning enough to not mention Trowa. Instinctively he shoved Duo into the same box, and locked any questions away. Instead, he merely listened, nodded, and danced around the details of his own five years away. 

"I wouldn't have passed Advanced Geopolitical Infrastructures if it weren't for Wufei," Relena was saying. "More wine, Quatre?" 

"Thanks," Quatre replied. "Heero, this must be boring you." 

"No," Heero said, letting an unexpectedly shy smile dash across his face. "I'm enjoying it. I never... expected you three to become so close." 

"We work together all the time," Quatre said. 

"Despite my best attempts otherwise," Wufei deadpanned. "Neither of them are serious scholars." 

"We leave that to you." Relena grinned suddenly, appearing much younger than her too-mature twenty-two years. "Besides, no one expects a bodyguard to be able to beat them down in debate as well." 

"Bodyguard?" Heero glanced at Wufei, who shrugged. 

"That's how it started," Quatre explained. "We traded off being bodyguards for Miss Relena at Cambridge, and eventually realized we were all interested in the same courses anyway." 

"Not you," Relena retorted. "You had to go study business as well as interstellar political law." She snorted but somehow turned it into a somewhat ladylike action. "Overachiever." 

"It was necessary!" 

"Show-off," Wufei added. 

Heero glanced between the three friends, his heart sinking slowly as he realized he was still watching with a photographer's distance. Did he even belong in this picture? 

* * *

At ten, Wufei and Relena excused themselves with regrets. While Wufei bowed formally to Heero, Quatre kissed Relena on the cheek, and the two ducked out through the front room. There were several moments of silence at the table, during which they heard Wufei laughing at something Relena said that Heero didn't catch. 

"Wufei... seems to be doing well," Heero finally said into the empty space, once the two friends had departed. 

"Yes." Quatre shoved his plate away and rested his elbows on the table. "He's much happier now. He was good with the Preventers, but he's better as a scholar." Catching Heero's look, he shrugged. "Wufei still contracts with Lady Une when Relena needs him to play bodyguard, and no others are available. I couldn't do it for this trip. I had a conference that kept me until yesterday afternoon." 

"Conference?" Heero pushed the green beans around on his plate. 

"In South America," Quatre said. "Peace building." 

Heero nodded, sipping the wine to cover his lack of conversation. Quatre laughed. 

"Relax, Heero," he told the photographer. "I won't make you talk if you don't want to. You've hardly said more than ten words all night, anyway." 

"Are... Relena and Wufei..." Heero began, letting his words trail off. 

"Are..." Quatre was startled, but chuckled. "No. We're all just best friends. More like a sister and two brothers." 

"Oh." Heero could see that might be a good thing. Wufei had lost his entire family, his entire clan, when they self-destructed the colony during the war. Relena was raised with no knowledge of her brother Milliardo. And Quatre, of course, had twenty-nine sisters, yet little day-to-day interaction with them for most of his life. "That's good," Heero said, feeling awkward again. 

"It is," Quatre agreed, standing up. "Want to sit in the other room? These chairs get uncomfortable after awhile." 

"This is your permanent residence?" Heero asked as he followed Quatre back into the front room. 

"No. I live in London most of the time. This is my sister Janna's house, but she's off visiting two of my other sisters on L1." 

"Ah." He stared at several of the pictures sitting across a tabletop. Some were of Quatre, some of a woman that must be Quatre's sister. Tucked off to the side, as if forgotten, was another picture. Heero leaned close. It was Trowa. 

The picture looked as though it were taken late in the day, judging by the yellow-orange tint to the shot. Trowa was half-reclining in a window seat, the setting sun turning the window glazing to gold, a book in his lap. He looked surprised, a little excited, his hair swinging away from his eyes thanks to the motion of lifting his head. His eyes were wide, pleased, his mouth just a little open. 

It was a sexy picture, and Heero found himself wishing he could capture people in movement like that. His pictures always felt static to him. This picture made him feel as though any minute, Trowa would move again, and the image would be lost. Behind it were two more pictures, which looked like still shots from videos, and both were of Trowa. Heero noted absently that in one, Trowa was dismantling a ship engine. 

Heero straightened up, glancing over at Quatre. The blond was across the room, his expression shadowed in the low-lit room. 

"Did you take..." Heero started to say, motioning to the photograph. 

"Ah, the time," Quatre suddenly said, stepping forward with a polite smile on his face. His voice had dropped in pitch, becoming the diplomat's even voice. The skin prickled on the back of Heero's neck again. "I'm sorry, but I also need to be up early. Perhaps we can meet up tomorrow? Will you be at the opening for the exhibition?" 

Heero realized he was being skillfully nudged towards the door. He accepted his coat automatically, belatedly wondering whether he should sink in his heels and demand an explanation. Listening to Quatre's smooth goodnights, he changed his mind. If there was an explanation, and if he needed to know it, then he'd find out. Otherwise, it probably wasn't important. Five years was a long time. The three friends had no obligation to fill him in on old history. 

Numbly, he promised to see Quatre at the exhibition opening the next day, and stepped out into the Parisian night. 

* * *

"My god, there must be a new world order and no one told me," Bernie quipped behind Heero. The photographer turned to the agent with an irritated expression. 

"I'm only here because I promised," the photographer said stiffly. So far, none of the gallery managers had noticed him, and he was hoping to keep it that way. Having a camera stand in for his self-portrait was probably the only reason the two hundred people in line hadn't mobbed him yet. 

"Couldn't have been to me," Bernie replied with a grin. "Maybe it was to that handsome man standing by the food table?" 

Heero jumped, immediately assuming Bernie was speaking of someone different. If it was the week for old friends showing up, he thought, then there's only one person who'd station himself right next to food. 

The next instant, though, he caught sight of Wufei's black hair, the ponytail reaching nearly to the man's shoulder blades. The Chinese ex-pilot was chatting with someone, his white teeth glistening as he grinned at something the man said. It didn't take long before Wufei sensed Heero's gaze, departing with a cordial comment to his companion. 

"Do you need to be here the entire time?" Wufei said without preamble as he approached. Behind them, Bernie slipped away to discuss last-minute details with the curator. 

"No." 

Heero refrained from mentioned he hadn't planned on being there at all, except that he couldn't break a promise to Quatre no matter how ill-timed. He'd been up until four, frustrated with the darkroom bag he'd been forced to use because the hotel bathroom wasn't lightproof, but at least now he had ten rolls of film hanging to dry. The morning was overcast, turning the entire sky into a light box. Heero had halfway hoped for a few hours to take pictures before returning to the hotel for a well-deserved nap once afternoon's direct light set in. 

"Quatre is waiting for us," Wufei explained. "This way." The pilot led Heero from the gallery, down a hallway to a side exit. A car was waiting at the curb, and the two men slipped in. Quatre was behind the wheel. He nodded silently in greeting to Wufei and Heero. The three rode in silence until Quatre pulled up behind his townhouse. 

"Come in, Heero," he said. "There are some things we need to explain." 

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, have a beagle. 


	2. the squats and low rise

**27 Jan 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

There's a house in an alley  
In the squats and low rise  
Of a town with no future  
But that's where my future lies  
― Richard Thompson 

"We hadn't planned on saying anything, if we could help it," Quatre began. He'd poured thick Turkish coffee for himself and made a pot of green tea for Wufei and Heero. The tone in Quatre's otherwise melodious tenor made the photographer wonder if ten in the morning was too soon to ask for whiskey. 

"Being Relena, Quatre, and myself," Wufei added helpfully. "We asked Relena to join us, but she sends her regrets. She had a prior appointment. Between us, I think she also considers this Gundam business." 

"She tried to stay out of it when it began," Quatre added. "I think she sometimes still hopes there's a way to fix things." 

"Fix?" Heero frowned. 

"Please understand, this is old news to us. We thought if we started to explain, naturally you'd have questions. We weren't sure you needed to be involved." 

"Understood." Heero let his glance slide to Wufei, who was sipping his tea, his eyes focused on some unseen point. 

"Trowa and I... stopped being friends almost a half-year ago." Quatre's face was tense. A muscle flickered in his jaw. "Trowa entered school a year behind us, preferring to take time after the war to travel with the circus. When Cathy took over the management, she ordered him off to school. He was in his fourth year of veterinary medicine when we... had a falling-out." 

"Say what it is," Wufei interrupted. "It all crashed and burned, thanks to Duo." 

Quatre winced. "It wasn't Duo's fault," he replied, softly. He spoke as though this were an old argument between the two friends. "It was just bad timing." 

Heero glanced back and forth between the two men, and waited. 

"Trowa was feeling trapped. He's used to traveling, being without a home. He needed to get out. He wanted..." Quatre trailed off, and Wufei picked up the explanation. 

"The bastard wanted a home to come back to, but didn't want to put forth the effort to make it a home. He just wanted to head off, do his own thing, and expected Quatre to be waiting when he got back." Wufei set his cup down on the side table. It rattled unevenly. Quatre's face was pinched, and he took several seconds to steady his breathing. 

"That's not all, and you know it," he reprimanded Wufei. The Chinese scholar frowned and crossed his arms, refusing to meet the blond's eyes. Quatre sighed and continued. "Duo had just finished school. He was studying... mechanical engineering, I think. Or perhaps it was civil engineering. I can't recall." 

Heero murmured something inaudible when Quatre didn't speak again. A prompting sound, and the blond nodded. 

"I'm sorry," Quatre said. "We've worked hard to put this behind us. Anyway, something had happened to Hilde, and Duo came asking Trowa's help. Apparently they had been in correspondence, and Trowa had mentioned he wanted to take a break from school and get back to space." Noticing Heero's puzzled expression, Quatre shook his head. "I don't know the situation with Hilde. Last I heard, she was safe and healthy, but that was six months ago." 

"The long and the short of it is that Trowa packed up, made a few choice comments, and left with Duo," Wufei said. "We haven't seen nor heard from either of them since." The scholar was still staring off into space, and he spoke in a flat voice. Exhaustion was written all over his delicate features. 

"There's more." Heero glanced back at Quatre, his statement a flat certainty. He was answered with a wan smile. 

"There always is," Quatre told him softly. "Almost a month after Trowa left, I did some work with a peace-building operation between the colonies and one of the Sweeper groups. The colonies were in conflict with the Sweepers over the alleged sabotage of several shuttles, which the Sweepers were then claiming for salvage." 

"The alleged saboteurs are ex-Sweepers." Wufei picked up the thread when Quatre fell silent. "That group disappeared off the radar screen, but not before a report was made about a long-haired man breaking and entering the shuttle work bay the night before the flight." 

It took a second to sink in. If the two pilots specified that detail, it could only be to narrow it down to a single person. The security on most shuttle work bays was normally high, but Duo could slip in and out of Fort Knox and no one would be the wiser. Heero blinked, trying to comprehend the implications. Sabotaging a shuttle just wasn't something he would normally list as a likely crime for Duo. 

"We say a video shot," Quatre said, and shrugged, a casual movement. "You might not recognize him now - he's grown as well, and his braid's shorter by half, but it was definitely Duo. It wasn't clear whether he did anything to cause the sabotage, however. It's only certain that he was there, the night before, and the next day the only outgoing shuttle blew up en route." 

"What was on the shuttle?" Heero asked. 

"Shipments," Wufei replied. "I'm not sure of what. Canned goods, I think." 

"Something like that," Quatre agreed. "Regardless, the colony disputed the Sweeper's claim to the salvage, seeing as the shuttle exploded outside colony airspace. There were demonstrations, and I asked for the photographic records. I wanted to see if Duo... showed up in the crowd. Just on the off-chance he stuck around to gloat..." The blond Arabian looked distinctly uncomfortable at stating the accusation out loud, but his discomfort grew as his voice dropped to a pained whisper. "Instead... I saw Trowa." 

"Trowa?" Heero gripped his cup tighter. 

"In the crowd," Wufei said. "There were two other people near him that he appeared to be talking to, but the video was too fuzzy. One of them was wearing a cap of some sort. The other was hidden behind him." 

"That was four months ago, when I saw the video records." Quatre sighed and poured more tea for Heero and Wufei. "So now you know. Trowa and Duo left together, are now gone, and may be involved with a group that's illegally boosting Sweeper operations." 

"Isn't this a task for Preventers?" Heero wrinkled his brow at the tealeaves swirling in the bottom of his cup. 

"Absolutely not." 

Heero looked up to see Quatre shaking his head, his blue eyes darkening into the color of steel on a cold morning. The Arabian had clearly made up his mind as to the strategy. One glance at Wufei told Heero that the Chinese man had willingly acquiesced to Quatre's decision. 

"Need I remind you, these are two former Gundam pilots," Quatre said. "They have the skills and the contacts to remain two steps ahead of any Preventers. If any of the five of us chose to disappear, Heero, you know as well as we do that we would not be found unless we wanted to be." 

"Understood." Heero knew it all too well. He also knew that reluctance on the part of potential searchers was also a significant part of successfully staying hidden for a long period. 

"Plus, if word got out that one Gundam pilot – let alone two – had gone renegade..." Wufei sighed, and shrugged. "It wouldn't look good for those of us working to keep the peace. Even if no one knows who the rest of us are." 

"Which is why we've kept this information away from the Preventers, and done our best to be first informed of Trowa's and Duo's possible whereabouts. If something happens, we'd rather know of it first... but nothing's happened, and we're learning to live without the knowledge." Quatre set his cup on the table and leaned back, folding his hands gracefully in his lap. 

Heero studied the other man, noting the stern line of Quatre's jaw, the pale skin, the blue eyes now lidded and heavy. The photographer measured the changes in his friend, and judged him still as beautiful as it was when they were young. As beautiful, and likely as lethal, for all his diplomatic prowess, Heero thought, perhaps even more so. 

"Thank you for telling me," Heero finally said, setting his own cup down. "But I think I should go. I was up most of the night and now I'm dead on my feet." 

"You can stay..." Quatre stopped at Heero's expression. 

"No," Heero replied. "I've grown accustomed to my space, but thank you." 

For the second time in twenty-four hours, Heero found himself hailing a cab in front of Quatre's sister's house. As the taxi barreled down the narrow Parisian streets, Heero found himself puzzling over Quatre's and Wufei's words, chewing at them, annoyed. The early afternoon light was harsh in his eyes as the cab pulled up in front of his hotel, and Heero staggered out with barely a nod to the doorman. 

Duo was many contradictory things, Heero knew. But Duo wasn't the kind of person to break up a relationship by encouraging division. Hell, Heero thought, reminding himself of all the times Duo had pushed him to return Relena's friendship. Duo was the kind of person who looked for and worked on connections. He wouldn't show up and knowingly encourage Trowa to leave a friendship behind. 

Heero stood in the lobby, waiting for the elevator, and shook his head at his thoughts. It's been five years, he reminded himself; people change, and not always for the better. 

* * *

_ If any of the five of us chose to disappear, Heero, you know as well as we do that we would not be found unless we wanted to be. _

Heero leaned back from the laptop and scowled. A month had passed, and he'd found nothing. Weary, he ran a hand through his hair and slowly got up from the desk. Fewer pictures hung on the lines, and he could nearly walk the length of the studio without ducking. 

It still bothered him: Duo, sabotaging a shuttle for what seemed to be the sole purpose of letting Sweepers claim more loot. The boy who'd fought for peace, going back to thievery – or worse – with so little honor? Heero just couldn't see it happening. He refused to. 

The photographer wandered to the large windows at one end of the studio, past the shoji screens flanking his bed, and stared down at the streets of L1. The false lighting was fading into the strange twilight that passed for night in the colonies, but it didn't comfort him. Uneasy, Heero placed a hand to the window, then looked up, instinctively searching for the moon before he remembered: no sky, no stars, no moon. He sighed and turned back to face the studio. 

I failed him, he thought. I tried so hard to keep him safe... Heero laughed under his breath, a bitter sound. Stealing parts from the other boy's Gundam, when Howard had already offered me all their spare parts, and all to keep Duo from joining me in the fight. I was the soldier. He was a civilian, a street kid, fallen into my world and no idea of just how far over his head he'd gone. He was one more colonist to protect. Even as Heero thought it, he wondered if that were really true. Did Duo need – had he ever – needed Heero? Or was it Heero who needed someone to protect? 

The problem was he'd protected people by pushing them away. And I'm still keeping my distance, he admitted. 

He turned, studying the rows of pictures drying on the clothesline. The photography class was originally part of a contract between himself and his therapist. It began as an assignment to create something; to find a way to heal. Atonement. From there it grew, and then he'd met Bernie, and now...now he had one collection out, and a second one in the works, and he'd spent the past month aching. 

It was that picture of Trowa, he'd decided at some point. He'd woken in the middle of the night after he returned to L1, staring at the pictures flapping softly on the drying line; so many images, endless faces, frozen in time. None of them had that blessed movement, that gentle quality Quatre had captured in Trowa's startled privacy, or in Quatre's snapshot of Heero's own impulsive affection towards Duo. 

Heero's legs slowly gave out and he slid down the wall to rest his forehead on his knees, an old gesture from when therapy got too hard and the emotions came too strong. He'd always had emotions. He'd always followed them. It was just the display that was difficult. Even with only one other person in the room, there were times he shut down, terrified. When he'd started group therapy his junior year, with other war veterans, it was almost too much, too many times. 

Each time, the camera had saved him. It let him record, observe, set boundaries. The subject couldn't approach too close, or the picture would be out of focus. It was safety. It was something protecting him, as the Gundams had. 

The dark-haired man pushed himself away from the wall, a decision made. Bernie had been complaining, quietly, that Heero's pictures had dropped in quality. He'd even suggested that Heero was distracted. While the photographer hadn't admitted as much, he was at least honest enough with himself to admit Bernie had a point. 

It wasn't Duo's and Trowa's disappearance, though. It was the bigger question of whether it was time he step out from behind the camera and get back in the frame. That would mean dealing with other people, reaching out, if he wanted to track down his wayward comrades and determine for himself whether there was anything worth saving there. 

Heero settled himself in front of his laptop, hitting the keys hard as he began to search. This time he was searching for something a little different than the straightforward 'net searches he'd been using. This time, he was searching for someone who could help. 

* * *

The kids' avatars amused him. It had taken Heero several minutes of contemplation before he decided not to use the jpeg of his camera. Instead, he dug through online image galleries until he found a picture of a dove's wing. Satisfied, he loaded it up, signed on, and sat back to observe the underground news 'nets. 

He had just begun to grasp some of the faster-moving slang when one of the avatars messaged him publicly. It seemed to be some kind of blue rat, holding a white disk. Heero wondered idly about the image's meaning but was too surprised by the avatar's comment to file the thought away. 

"You can't use that nick," the rat ordered. "You're new? You'll need to go to Settings and re-register. Your current nick will be deleted." 

"Why?" Heero dutifully typed, more curious than insulted. "What's wrong with Wing?" 

"Shit, you asswipe," a hand-shaped avatar barked. "That's a Gundam. Those are off-limits. Didn't you even bother to read the FAQ?" 

"Shut up, Mike," the rat snapped. There was a flurry of movement on the screen and suddenly Mike the Hand was tossed out of the box. As fast as Heero registered the movement, the Hand avatar was back in the line. Four of its fingers were folded down, leaving one up in a universal symbol. 

"Why no Gundam names?" Heero was definitely curious now. 

"No disrespecting elite hackers," the rat replied, and tossed the Hand out of the lineup a second time. When the Hand returned, it was back to its original image, the palm displayed, all fingers spread. 

"Well, not all were really hackers," another avatar interjected. This one was a little girl's face, with pink hair in pigtails. Heero chuckled, wondering if Relena would have once chosen an avatar like that. The pink girl avatar continued, "Sandrock and Shenlong weren't all over the place as much as Deathscythe or Wing. And there's only ten or fifteen records of Heavyarms hacking. And only Deathscythe and Wing hacked Crays." 

"Maybe the other three just covered their tracks better," Heero responded. He knew it wasn't true, but he was curious now. A generation, worshipping the Gundams, he mused, because of their hacking skills. He never would have guessed, but this might be useful. The only problem was the forum's ironclad ability to cloak identity, combined with his own consistent paranoia on keeping his anonymity. Even if they could break into his current identity, there was little to connect Hito Yuy, photographer, with Heero Yuy, terrorist. 

"No way, man," Mike the Hand said. "We've got records on all of it. We've scrounged it all, and the other three pilots just barely together hacked enough to equal Deathscythe on a good day, let alone Wing." 

"But they were still elite," a fourth avatar added. "Way over your grade, Hand." 

"You've got fifteen seconds to ditch the nick," the rat announced. He was clearly a moderator. The rat's whiskers were animated to twitch, probably to indicate growing irritation. 

"What if I'm really Wing?" 

There was a long silence in the room, then Rat started laughing, followed quickly by the rest of them. After a minute, the laughing avatars settled back into their original stillness and the typing resumed. 

"Prove it," Pink Girl ordered. 

"How? What are the rules?" 

"Tell us how Wing got into the lunar base." Pink Girl's avatar winked once at Heero's dove-wing avatar. "And we've seen the public records. We also snagged the only existing copies of the surveillance cameras." 

Heero took a second to think, then grinned as he typed. "I snuck into the loading docks that connected the main tourist area to the military base. Dug open the first case I found. Lettuce. Let it float in low-grav, and waited for someone to see it and come investigate. When he did, I hit him behind the shoulder blades and took his uniform." 

"Discuss," the rat barked, and Heero suddenly found himself facing a blank screen. The avatars were present, but the scrolling lines had come to a complete halt. A second later the rat's words appeared. 

"Give us the unlock codes on Wing Zero." 

Heero hesitated for a second, taking a deep breath to remind himself that the codes would do no damage at this point. They were only a piece of history now, so he carefully typed the string into the window. Another moment of silence while he waited. 

"Last question," the Hand announced as the screen began scrolling again. "When you left for space the first time, why'd you take the Deathscythe pilot's name as your alias?" 

"He was my only friend," Heero admitted, hoping that would suffice. Because he was the first friend I had, he thought. Because I wanted to remember him. Because some part of me had this crazy notion that by invoking his name I could let him participate in the safest way – at a distance. He was there, but in spirit only. Heero snorted at the nostalgia. See just how well all of that worked. 

"Good enough for me," Pink Girl replied, her avatar laughing. "We've always been curious." 

"We're still digging for the Wing unlock codes," Rat told him. "Snappy's got a contact. Just waiting for a response." 

"Can you find more than just historical info?" This was getting closer to what Heero wanted to know. Absently he wondered what contact would know the codes from Wing. The doctors, of course, and Quatre, who actually built it. Possibly Milliardo, maybe some of the OZ folks, assuming they were still sane after the experience. Unlikely. 

"You name it, asswipe, we can do it," the Hand said. 

"Shut up, Mike," a blue snake avatar interrupted. "If he's really Wing, that puts you below snails in this food chain." 

"Snappy's not back with the word," Mike the Hand said. "Until then, Mister Newbie is asswipe." 

"This forum secure?" Heero ignored the side conversation and focused on Rat. He'd checked the neighborhood as thoroughly as possible, but it had also been three or four years since he had really sat down to practice the skills. New codes and programs had developed since then, and he was reluctantly beginning to recognize a sense of inadequacy. He squashed it. 

"Ten times over," Hand spoke before the Rat, who twitched his avatar whiskers. 

"I need to find two of the other pilots." 

Again there was a long pause as the seven avatars present registered the statement. There wasn't a flurry of responses, as Heero had expected. Instead, it seemed as though the group naturally waited for the Rat to speak first. Heero was impressed, sensing this was most likely a group that had worked in tandem on several projects. And projects, like missions, are only successful when there's a clear strategist. 

"Snappy just sent confirmation," Rat said. "If you're not Wing, you're a damn good facsimile. Which pilots you trying to find?" 

"Heavyarms and Deathscythe." 

The screen went blank while the group discussed, and Heero waited, tapping his fingers on the tabletop. After a much shorter space the scroll returned, and Rat's avatar shook as though laughing. 

"Mission accepted, Wing!" 

* * *

Heero's life settled into a strange new routine. In the mornings, when the forum was silent, he developed the latest prints or met with Bernie about upcoming gallery exhibits. Sometimes he even bothered to read and answer some of the mail about his photography, which surprised Bernie to no end. Heero privately considered it practice for his reintroduction to the human race. 

In the afternoons, he was waiting in the forum as the seven regulars piled in. Sometimes there were additional avatars, but they usually remained quiet, using the side forums for their own discussions. He'd suggested a side forum for his own group, but each time it was voted down. There was too much street cred to be gained from hosting a pilot, and the hackers weren't about to lose that. 

Over the week after they started the mission, a simple pattern had developed. In the main forum, Heero presented places he'd already tried, as well as methods he'd used during the war to track down and locate people. His methods were often obsolete due to heightened post-war security and changing programming formats, but the hackers enjoyed the stories regardless. None of his public stories were classified, he knew, and were probably available on the 'net through other sources without needing hacking skills. Most newspapers would have the details he provided in the public forum. 

When one of the avatars took on a challenge, Heero would get messaged. In return for a completing a task, Heero would answer a question. Several times it was about the programming adaptations he'd done to Trowa's Heavyarms or to Wing Zero; another often-asked question was about his relationship to Relena. 

That surprised him, and left him a little uneasy. How was he supposed to speak about someone who was still a public figure? Would his admissions of being in love, at one point, in any way damage her now? She hadn't looked at him with anything but simple fondness, that night he'd met her again. He settled for being coy, saying only that they had been close. Fortunately the few avatars asking quickly got the message and returned to asking about the other pilots, the programming, mission details so small he'd nearly forgotten until they'd pointed out discrepancies in the official logs. 

He was starting to feel old. The thought made him laugh. 

* * *

"Got something," Pinky announced two days later. "There's been activity on a long-dormant account under the name of Maxwell Church." 

"Where was the contact?" Heero sat forward, his heart suddenly lurching. A week of digging, and the team had only tracked down Trowa's and Duo's movements up to seven months before. 

"L1, in the fourth sector." Pinky's avatar winked, and did a little dance before settling down. "I even have pictures from the bank video. Transferring now." 

Heero waited impatiently while the DCC connected. When he opened the file, it was a grainy bank video, but that was definitely Duo. He was turned to the side, laughing at something. The camera had recorded every ten seconds, and Duo was out of frame for two of the shots. Heero ground his teeth. It wasn't a lot, but it was something, and only three weeks old. 

"Sorry it's out of date already," Pinky added in the message window. "It's taken me three days to get through the archaic system." 

"Happens," Heero replied. It wasn't much, but it was something. Duo had been on L2 within the month. He graciously provided an explanation about the system used by the Saint Gabriel institute's connection to the OZ databanks. Halfway through the programming example his eye was distracted by a flurry of typing in the main forum. An unfamiliar avatar was screaming at Rat. 

"DAMMIT," the little yellow smiley-face was typing. "Someone check my IP and give me access! NOW! I have NEWS!" 

Rat's avatar shook, as though laughing, and it was a second or two before the moderator answered. "The IP is registered as backup. Hand, shut up already. Why're you on your friend's box?" 

"Mine's fried, assfart," Hand answered, settling down as his avatar shifted into his normal open-hand picture. "I found Deathscythe." 

"When?" Heero skipped the message window, and went directly to the main window. Conversation came to a halt. Hand was the undisputed center of attention. 

"Thirty minutes ago. Would've been here sooner but I had to run to my friend's place to use his box." Mike the Hand's avatar did a little dance, then gave Heero the finger. 

Heero grinned. 

"Details, Mike," Rat ordered. 

"I put a trace program on the card used in Pinky's bank find, and ran the access numbers against the L2 banking system. There's another three cards with the same code series, which means they're the same because the bank uses consistent algorithms in its passwords." The Hand's typing was positively breathless. "So I traced those three cards. Two showed up immediately, and were knocked off the list as regular people living on L2. But the third didn't have activity until I checked this afternoon, so I was tracking it down." Hand paused, probably to wring his fingers to get feeling back. 

"And?" Snake was irritated with the pause. "Well?" 

"It's registered to Max Wellson, and I pinged the system so I could follow the thread to his specific location. Problem was, he was online." 

There was a pause as that sunk in. 

"Oh, shit," Pinky started. 

"What?" Heero asked. It didn't sound good, but he wasn't certain what kind of retaliation could be used with the newer systems. He hadn't investigated offensive programming yet. 

"Fucking A," Rat added. "Hand, why didn't you call one of us? You're not up to that. What happened?" 

"He's fast, man," Hand said. The fingers on his avatar were drooping now. "And mean. He came after me in sixteen different ways. The guy's a hacking god, I tell you. It was just, shit, fuck, and then smoke coming out of my box. I don't know what he did." 

"You had a DCC open?" Snake asked. 

"Yeah." 

"Fuck, man, that was stupid." Pinky's avatar shook its head and its pink pigtails bounced. 

"I took a calculated risk," Hand protested. "I wanted to get in and out fast. But I got the location. Colony L2, Sector 3, Area 17, Block 4, Building 25, Floor 7, Apartment 738." 

"H-O-L-Y-F-U-C-K," Rat typed. Admiration was evident in the stillness of the avatars as they digested Hand's exploit. 

"Give me a drop-point," Heero suddenly ordered. "I'll send you a new motherboard." 

"Will do," Hand sighed, his avatar popping back up. "And I gotta question about the cloaking mechanism on Deathscythe." 

"Later," Heero said. "I want to get on this information, now. I'll check back in with you all, and send the board, but I've got packing to do. I'm heading to L2." 

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, have a Volkswagon that will be spending all day in the shop tomorrow. 


	3. say yes quickly

**27 Jan 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

Is what I say true? Say _yes_ quickly,  
if you know, if you've known it  
from before the beginning of the universe.  
― Jalaluddin Rumi 

Heero's pack had been ready to go for two days, waiting by the door, so he had little delay between slamming the laptop shut and reaching the door. He needed only to shove his camera into the lockbox where Bernie could retrieve it later for safekeeping. At the last minute he grabbed one of the miniature digital cameras, then glanced around the apartment one more time. Heero paused, staring at the still-damp prints from that morning's work. His cell phone rang and he flipped it open without thinking twice. 

"Yuy." 

"Heero." 

The photographer nearly dropped the phone, but managed to recover in time. His next words sounded vaguely strangled in his ears. "Relena?" 

"I was hoping I could catch you," she said, and chuckled. "I mean, I wasn't sure if you'd answer." 

"Oh." Heero shifted in place, then tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pulled his door shut and locked it. "What's up?" God, does that sound lame? What do I say, anyway? 

"I..." She paused, and Heero could practically see her rolling the words around in her mouth before she spoke again. "We know you've been trying to track Trowa and Duo." 

"Yeah?" Heero winced. That probably sounded sarcastic, when he was really only surprised. Then, on second thought, he wondered why he was surprised. Quatre was the kind of person to have eyes and ears everywhere. 

"There were alert bots on just about every piece of information related to Trowa and Duo, and nearly every one has been accessed in the past week. Not by you," Relena added with a soft laugh. "But by a variety of signatures that would indicate you've got a crew working for you that's nearly as adept as Quatre's." 

"Relena, I have a shuttle to catch." 

"And I have a question to ask you." 

"Okay..." 

"Why are you trying to find them?" Relena's voice was low, and even. It held none of Quatre's pain or Wufei's anger. It was a politician's controlled delivery. 

"Because..." Heero paused outside his building and looked around for a taxi. Scowling a little, he waved one down and climbed in before he answered. "Because... I have to." 

"Maybe that's not good enough," Relena replied. "Maybe you'll make everything worse." 

"It's already worse," Heero retorted, then sighed. "Everyone was..." 

"Everyone was supposed to remain friends, and we didn't. And now you're coming back to save the day." She sounded amused, but Heero caught the hint of tension. 

"No," he said, curt. "No," he repeated, softer. "I just..." 

"Yeah, you 'just' a lot of things," she said. "Heero, I love you. You know that, right?" 

"Uh..." Heero was stunned. 

She laughed, a quiet sound tickling his eardrum. "I love all five of you, completely. Desperately so, sometimes. It's been horrible, five years of knowing my two best friends are incomplete because you had to leave. I understood why you did, I think, and they do, too... but it still hurt them." She paused and he heard her exhale slowly before she continued. "So I'll say what they won't or can't: it's your choice. But don't come back unless you're going to stay. None of us can take losing you again." 

"Hn." He just couldn't think of anything to say, but it was clear she required a response of some kind. He wasn't expecting her to laugh out loud in reply, however. His eyebrows shot up even higher as he regarded the phone briefly before returning it to his ear to reply. "I'll... think about it." 

"You do that," she purred, and cut the call. 

Heero stared at the phone for several more seconds before flipping it closed and putting it away. 

* * *

The trajectory between L1 and L2 was shorter during the winter rotation, and a weary Heero landed on L2 four hours later. It was early afternoon on L2, despite his body being convinced it was nearly midnight. Shrugging his bag on his shoulder and feeling a little naked without his camera bag, he took a taxi to the moderately priced hotel he'd used on his last photography trip. Fifteen minutes later he emerged from his room, the beginnings of a plan in place. 

An hour later, Heero returned with shopping bags from several thrift stores, and was soon back on the street. Now his jeans were black, tight, and starting to rip at the knees. He'd brought his old steel-toed black boots, and they no longer stood out now that he had a dark blue long-sleeved t-shirt and a black flannel men's work shirt, patched at the elbows. He'd also purchased a leather jacket with easily fifty years since it first saw use. Nodding to the startled desk clerk, the photographer dug his hands into his pockets and headed into L2's late afternoon. 

First, find Duo, Heero decided. He'd gone over his conversation with Relena several times, but each time he shied away from hitting too hard against the questions she'd raised. Why was he going? What was he going to do? Lecture Duo? Remind Duo that he should be a good boy? Save Duo? 

God, no, Heero thought, scowling as he stared out the taxi window at Sector Two, crossing into Sector Four. No, he did enough saving Duo... during both wars. 

Heero pushed the thoughts away. Find Duo and Trowa, first. Then... 

* * *

The taxi dropped him off three blocks from Duo's last location, and Heero shrugged the coat a little closer as he walked. He'd forgotten the extent of L2's weather controls incompetence. The chill of deep space never really seemed to leave this place, and he wondered how Duo could have handled it. The idiot was always the one complaining the most about cold, yet he grew up with this? 

Heero grunted. None of them grew up. They were all born old. 

He was brought out of his reverie rather abruptly when he came around the corner and discovered that Colony L2, Sector 3, Area 17, Block 4, Building 25, Floor 7, Apartment 738 didn't exist. 

There wasn't a seven-story building there, just an empty lot between two other low-rises. The dark-haired man's jaw dropped for a second, then closed with a nearly audible snap. Of course. Duo was too good for it to be so simple, even if it had been hell finding even that much. The corner of Heero's mouth started to curl up, and he fought back the urge to laugh out loud, standing on the sidewalk with no evident reason for doing so. It was just too perfect. 

Shaking his head, Heero turned and headed back the way he'd come. The colony's lights were fading, but at the rate he could move, it wouldn't be truly dark until he'd crossed back into Sector Two. His rolling walk ate up the sidewalk as he sunk himself into thought. Get back to the hotel, use the room's laptop system, and contact the forum. Perhaps they'd found more in the meantime. He reassured himself that at least he was on L2 and could react faster if they found more recent activity. 

It was a sign of how much he'd let himself lose his conditioning that he nearly slammed into someone as he turned a corner. The man barked something, and Heero looked up just in time. 

"Sorry," he mumbled, catching himself gracefully as he lurched backwards. 

"Yeah, kid," the man snapped. He was a little taller than Heero, completely bald, about fifty pounds heavier, and his skin was the color of deepest space. His hands were wrapped around a girl, scantily dressed but not even shivering in the colony's chill. Her skin was sallow and her eyes were tired. The man twisted the girl to his other side and glared at Heero. "You lost?" 

"No," the photographer said, scowling. 

"Runaway?" The man pulled the girl closer, one hand on her breast. She didn't react, and the man kept talking. "Down here for a good time?" 

"Hn." Heero stepped backwards again, preparing to head across the street at the first break in traffic. 

"Sure thing," the man said, then grinned. One of his front teeth was plated in gold, but the other one was missing. "Want to make some extra money?" 

Heero paused. His training was telling him to just walk away, but his gut instinct was whispering quietly. This is Duo's world, it was saying. If you want find Duo, you need to be in his world. Finally, Heero shrugged, casually. "Maybe." 

"Maybe!" The man barked, laughing, and pushed the girl away to dig something out of his pocket. "Deliver this, and you get ten creds. Bring another back and you get forty more." 

Heero stared down at the guy's filthy palm, reluctantly taking the small object. He stared at it for a few seconds. It was the size and shape of a romchip but coated in lime-green plastic. Deliver and bring it back. He glanced at the man, suspicious. "Just deliver it?" 

"And get another one back," the man said with a grin. "Maybe different color, but not your business if it is. I've got better things to do than be a gofer," he added expansively. "I'll be here." The man's grin flashed again in his dark face, and Heero was startled again by the gold tooth next to the empty space. 

"Where do I take it?" Heero pocketed the object in his jacket and took the ten credits, slipping them into his jeans pocket with his own money. 

"Around the corner, block down, you'll find a kid, about your height. Blue hair, named Jeet. Give it to him." The man turned his back on Heero, then, snuggling closer to the girl with audible commentary of what he wanted the girl to do. 

Heero stood there for a second, annoyed that the man would turn his back on Heero, then shrugged again. All missions have to start somewhere. 

* * *

There was a clump of women standing at the corner, but no boy about his height with blue hair. Heero stared at the women – clearly prostitutes – and pondered whether he should ask, or just dump the chip in the trash and keep walking. There was no reason to do this, he knew, but at the same time, it was somehow comforting that he was already off-balance. He fought to keep his face impassive, aware a wry smile was tugging at his lips. 

Duo! You always turned everything upside down, did it all wrong and somehow did it better than I ever expected, he railed, amused at the same time. I haven't even found you, and you've still managed to throw me off-balance. 

"Hey, babe," one of the girls called. "What's your game?" 

"Jeet," he replied automatically. 

"Oh," she said, her tired face falling back into a frown. "You're one of _those_. He's not here." The girl turned away, but he stepped forward and caught her by the arm. 

"Where can I find him?" 

"Dunno," she said, jerking her arm away from him neatly, her dirty blond hair swinging around her face as she moved. "Ask Enny." 

"Looking for Jeet?" A second girl stepped forward. Her hair was green and lanky, pulled back into a high ponytail. Her jeans jacket was intact, but she was wearing a sparkly blue tubetop underneath and a skirt of about the same amount of fabric. "You wanna wait? He should be back soon." She pushed up her jacket sleeve, glanced at her watch and frowned. "Any minute now." It was clearly a matter of some irritation, and Heero's interest was piqued. 

"You his keeper?" Heero tried to sound casual. 

"No, his pimp," she shot back, catching him off-guard with a wide grin. 

"I've got something," he started, but before he could move his hand she'd grabbed him by the arm, turning him around with a glare. 

"Don't," she hissed, motioning with her head towards the girls as she strode down the block. Heero took the hint and followed her, stopping when she did. "You're not Sammy," she announced. 

"Sammy the bald guy?" 

"Yeah." 

"He's busy," Heero said. "He asked me to bring it." 

"Gimme the ten credits," she ordered. When Heero didn't move, she stuck her hand out like she was going to reach into his pockets for him. He sidestepped her hand and dug out the credits, handing them to her with a scowl. She tucked them away. "Jeet's supposed to be back, but if he isn't, you gotta do the trade yourself. You up to it?" She looked him up and down, grinning widely as if it were the most hilarious question she'd asked all week. 

"Trade?" Heero's eyebrows shot up, and he shook his head a little to get his bangs out of his face. His head was starting to argue with his gut, fighting the original instinct that had landed him in this. "Why don't you do it?" 

"Because, man," she said, rolling her eyes. "I've got the wrong equipment." At Heero's continued stare, she snorted. "The john's _gay_, man." 

Heero grunted, struggling to let his face drop back into its old wartime expression of wariness. "What kind of trade?" 

Enny looked at her watch again, her brow furrowed. "Two minutes, damn it. Where is he..." She looked up and down the street, watching the passing cars, before turning back to Heero. "You put that," she held her fingers out, thumb and forefinger as if measuring something small, "in your mouth. The john shows up, you kiss him, he takes it, and gives you another one. And you score twenty-five more credits." 

"Twenty-five more?" Heero's expression clearly said: for what? 

She slapped herself lightly on her forehead, exasperated. "Are you retarded? Because ya don't kiss a john, but this guy's different. He pays extra for that. Besides, it's the cover for the trade. Or do I need to use little words so you'll understand?" 

"Why me?" 

"Because Jeet's not here," she said, as if that explained everything. 

Heero was unconvinced. He was pretty sure she had just told him that he was supposed to kiss some guy, push the romchip into the other guy's mouth, and get one back. The whole idea seemed ludicrous. Why not simply palm it? He opened his mouth to say something and was startled to find she was pushing the romchip into his mouth. He blinked, wondering when she'd pick-pocketed him so skillfully. 

"He's pulling up," she muttered. "The guy on the bike, over there." 

"What do I do?" Heero asked, the romchip tasting cool and alien on his tongue. 

"Walk up, swing your leg over the bike, and kiss him." She turned Heero around and pushed him back down the block. "Do I have to give you a lesson?" 

Heero glanced over his shoulder at the girl, who was looking up and down the block with an angry expression. Steeling his shoulders, he let a smirk slide across his face. Gotta be in Duo's world, he reminded himself. 

There was a surreal moment as he took a deep breath, letting his mind shut down, rearranging his perspective into mission mode. Five years, a part of him chanted, five years too long, and then the voice was gone, silenced. He approached the bike, and the man's back, studying it carefully. 

The man was probably taller than him, Heero thought, noting the long legs sprawled out, holding the large bike upright. It was a powerful machine, broad and sulky, and the man was pushed back, away from the gas tank, leaving a space for someone in front of him. His hands were on his thighs, and his face was turned away, looking at the other side of the street. His dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail at the top of his head, the thick hair standing out like a pinwheel. His shoulders were broad, and when he shifted on the seat Heero got the immediate impression of muscular power. 

Heero stole up behind the man, silent as night, twisting to swing one leg over the bike. He slid closer even as the man turned, startled, but Heero's lips were already on his. Instinctively the man tensed, and Heero closed his eyes, tasting the biker's chapped lips. Trade, Heero's mind insisted, and the photographer obediently opened his mouth a little, pushing the romchip to the front of teeth, waiting. A pause, and the other man's head tilted for better contact, his hands slipping onto Heero's thighs, pulling him closer. 

The photographer's hands clenched at the man's shoulders; momentarily off-balance from the sensation of a tongue in his mouth and the way his feet were no longer under his hips as he leaned into the man. The biker's clasp grew tighter as the romchip slipped from Heero's mouth, and a second later the tongue returned, this time pushing a romchip back behind Heero's teeth. 

One of the biker's hands slid across Heero's ass, and two fingers tucked down into his back jeans pocket. A second later Heero was yanked off the bike, barely able to get his breath before he realized he was plastered against concrete, but still standing. He opened his eyes, blinking hard, realizing he'd been lifted off the bike and thrown against the nearest building. He could see blue hair in the corner of his vision, and registered an angry voice in his ear. 

"Mine," it was saying. "Fucker, no moving in." 

Heero's vision resolved itself and he started to push against the wall but thought better of it. Instead, he let his muscles relax as though surrendering, and nodded, once. "Understood," he replied quietly. "Get off me." 

"Yeah, you _got_ it," the boy replied hotly, pushing Heero up against the wall again as he stepped away. "Tell Sammy I ain't putting up with no competition." 

"I'll tell him." Heero said as his eyes met fierce gray eyes, large in a face framed by a shock of neon blue hair. The boy was almost as tall as Heero, but dressed in a shocking pink jacket, no shirt, and black vinyl shorts. Heero wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You can keep him." 

"Fuck yeah," the boy retorted. Behind him, the biker's voice was a low rumble, an amused growl. "Coming," the boy said over his shoulder, his eyes still on Heero as he spoke again, his voice raised for the biker to hear him. "What about Day?" 

The biker's affirmative grunt appeared to please Jeet. "Hear that," he taunted Heero. "Double for me, and none for you. Now vamoose." 

The bike roared into life behind them, and Heero saw it pull away from the curb out of the corner of his eye. The biker was already staring off down the street, and Heero could only see the peculiar ponytail. In a flash the boy was gone, clambering onto the back of the bike with a one-fingered wave back to Heero. 

As the bike pulled away Heero returned the gesture, his mood almost wry. He shook his head, turning to go and nearly tripping over Enny. She was watching him carefully. 

"That looked decent," she said. "How much didya get?" 

"Get?" Heero glared at her. "Other than kissing concrete?" 

"No, you idiot," she replied. "From the john." 

"I don't know," he said, and dug into his back pocket. He was surprised to find his hand coming up empty. "Nothing." 

"Oh," she said, her eyes wide. "That's a compliment." 

"What?" 

"Geez, you really are retarded," she told him. "Whores get paid. People don't." Enny studied him for a second, and grinned. "Either that, or he knew you were a virgin. I figured he'd pay double for that pleasure, though." 

"Hn." Heero stepped around her, annoyed to find she turned just as quickly to follow him. "What do you want now?" 

"That was a first, wasn't it," she crowed. "You've never kissed a guy before." 

"What?" The dark-haired man shot her a baleful look, doubly irritated. I want a shower, a hot dinner, and a shuttle back to L1. His lips tingled, even though he'd been certain the kiss had as much passion as licking an envelope. He felt cheap, but that secret voice was whispering something about feeling cheap only because he'd been hoping it would feel... something. Heero sighed and walked faster, but the girl kept up with him easily. 

"You don't like guys?" 

"I... don't know," he answered truthfully. The day's disappointment was rapidly crashing down on him. 

"You like girls better?" 

Heero didn't answer for a second, but stopped at the corner, watching the busy street. "I don't know." Any other words were choked back when the girl grabbed him by his jacket's lapels and pulled him close, shoving her tongue into his mouth. She tasted like cigarettes and cheap coffee. 

"What was _that_ for?" Heero glared at her when she released him, flustered to see she was grinning widely again. This is not my day, he grumbled silently. 

"See," she said, amiable. "Doesn't matter who you're kissing, mebbe. You don't know 'em or like 'em, it'll be all the same no matter what's between the legs. But if you do know 'em..." She smirked. 

"Whatever," he said, stalking off without a backwards glance. This time she didn't follow him. 

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, have a Jiji keychain. And no, I'm not sharing! 

Dyna: Yes, there's an explanation... and Hilde? Gee, I dunno... we'll have to see. ;-) 

Dragonlorelei: Glad you like the commentary. Not often I let myself get silly like that, but this story just seems like it could potentially be as angsty as Benediction Darkness, and maybe even longer. Honestly, one of these days I'll write something short, I swear... 

Nlp: Aww, that's so cool of you. I know people often put "OOC" on stories like this, but I've argued with myself that if I can explain reasonably why or how a character has changed then it's not really OOC so much as it is character development, even if you didn't see all the inbetween from there to here. So if it something a character does seems unlikely based on the explanations I've given, let me know, cause that would be OOC IMO. Acronyms abound. 

Angel Selene, Konada Mikari: Thanks! I'm trying! ;-) 

Crimson: I like pleasantly surprising people. I like even more hearing that I have... now I just gotta keep it, up, eh? 

Jesscheaux: You seriously crack me up! Now that you've figured it out... glad you're enjoying! 


	4. the masquerade of our living

**27 Jan 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

Here's the masquerade of our living  
Well, I hope it makes you feel better  
It's for our own protection  
― John Mellencamp 

Heero found Sammy a block away from his original location, standing on the street corner smoking a cigarette. The man turned to watch the young man approach, his grin growing wider as Heero's frown grew deeper. 

"Find Jeet?" Sammy threw the cigarette down and ground it under his boot heel. 

Heero stopped a few feet away. It was only old habits that pulled him back to awareness fast enough to realize Sammy's fingers were headed straight for his mouth. 

Automatically Heero grabbed the man's hand, then his arm. He twisted, turned, pushed, and then yanked sharply, a cruel smile flitting across his face as he acknowledged that some skills don't die. Sammy's body was pressed against a parked car, one arm at a severe angle across his back. Heero's other hand was against Sammy's neck, prepared to clench tightly enough to make Sammy pass out. 

Instead of arguing, Sammy laughed even harder. Heero reflexively tightened his grip. The bald man choked slightly. 

"All right, all right, uncle," the man said. 

Heero let go, stepping away quickly, his hands still up, his body braced. Sammy turned around, flexing his left arm, his other hand at his neck. He coughed once, and looked at Heero a little more closely. 

"Got the chip?" 

Heero nodded, and started to dig in his pocket. Sammy waved, dismissing, at the young man's gesture and flashed another shining smile. 

"You can hand it over yourself, then, and get the thanks yourself. By the way, nice moves, boy. Think you could do that with more than just one person at a time?" 

Suspicious, Heero considered the question, and nodded. His eyes were narrowed, and he glanced left and right. In response, Sammy started laughing again. 

"Oh, shit," he said, then coughed a few times. Getting his breath back, he shook his head at the younger man. "You should see your face! No, I ain't gonna jump you, and there's no bunch of goons waiting around the corner. Just seems you might have some use other than as a stand-in for a whore." Sammy leered. "You kissed the guy, didn't ya." 

Heero flushed, then scowled at his face's betrayal. 

Sammy hooted. "Yeah, I thought so. Well, no matter. Here's the forty, and if you want more, I think I've got a job for you. 'Specially if you can handle about seven of me." 

Heero's face was back under control, and his tone was perfectly neutral as he accepted the credits. "No sweat." 

"No sweat, he says!" Sammy turned, slapping a beefy hand across Heero's shoulder blades. "Kid, you are too much. Come on, we'll get you introduced." 

The dark-haired man paused, then nodded. Duo's world, he told himself. As long as it's not a part of Duo's world that involves kissing _everyone_, he amended. He could still taste the coffee on his lips, and it had drowned out any flavor of the man on the bike. 

* * *

The bar was half-full when Sammy pushed the door open, beckoning Heero to precede him. Heero shook his head, preferring to follow Sammy in. The black man grinned again, an expression that was definitely grating on the ex-pilot's nerves. He'd dealt with killers and soldiers, but the only jokers he'd ever tolerated were Duo and Bernie. He was starting to wonder if the constant grin was a traditional coping mechanism for L2 residents. 

Sammy slung his arm over Heero's shoulder and the young man tensed as he was dragged towards a table at the back. Three men were sitting under a bare red bulb. A gray-haired man appeared to be sleeping. Heero noted the gun holster under the man's jacket and a crease in his visible pants leg that meant an ankle holster. The second man, of Asian descent with a bleached stripe in his hair, was tilted back in his chair as he finished a beer. The third man, a redhead with dark roots, was reading the newspaper. 

The Asian looked up as they approached. "A little scrawny for entertainment, Sammy." 

"Bite me," the bald man replied, releasing Heero. "Go on, kid, hand it over." 

Heero furrowed his brow before realizing Sammy's meaning. He dropped the romchip on the table and backed up a step. The Asian man leaned over and palmed it skillfully, his hand seeming to merely pass over the table. 

"That it?" The redhead glanced up from the paper, his eyes a watered-down version of Heero's own cobalt. "Give him fifty, Joe, and get him out of here. Don't need no more whores." 

"Ah," Sammy interrupted, smug. "He's no whore." 

Heero bristled at being discussed, but kept his face calm, his body centered. 

"Really," Joe replied. The overhead light turned his streak to crimson as he leaned forward. "What is he? Floor decoration?" His gaze raked up and down Heero, and clearly dismissed the young man for a lightweight. 

"Humor me." The bald man shrugged. "Fifty creds says he takes down at least seven." 

"Fifty?" The redhead glanced up again, studying Heero closer. What he saw seemed to please him, but his tone was unexpectedly flat. "Not interested." 

"You're on," Joe cut in. He slapped fifty creds on the table, pushed them across to Heero, who took them without comment. Joe put down another fifty, and Sammy put down fifty as well. Joe whistled, a long short blast followed by two sharp high notes. 

The redhead visibly winced. "Can't you just stand up and shout like the rest of us?" 

"Shut up, Tiny," Joe snapped, and raised his voice to be heard over the room's noise. "Seven guys, pick yourself out and fall on... him." He pointed to Heero, who turned slowly to face the room, his body dropping into a defensive crouch. 

It's been too long, Heero thought. But like Duo always used to say, it's just like riding a bike, or piloting a Gundam. 

* * *

Ten minutes later, Heero assessed the damage as he dragged himself to his feet: a sprained wrist, several bruises on his chest, a pulled shoulder, and a bruise on his cheek that would be livid the next day if he didn't ice it soon. He could feel the swelling when he clenched his jaw. 

Two of the men had gone down instantly, one from a glass jaw and the other from a solid punch to the stomach. A third required a chair across his back; the chair was in pieces and the man was down. The fourth and fifth took a little longer, having held back to see Heero's moves. The sixth fell victim to a floor-sweeping kick as Heero tried to regain his feet, followed by two kicks to his gut while the ex-pilot blocked punches from the seventh. A grab at the last man's arm and a quick twist dislocated the guy's shoulder even as Heero was thrown to the ground. 

The redhead was smiling, a small quirk in his lips, and Joe was staring open-mouthed. The third man grunted slightly, and Heero realized he'd been awake and watching carefully. Sammy swept the hundred credits off the table and pocketed them with a wide grin. 

"Back to work," he announced. "Kid, I think you've got a job." 

Heero rolled his neck, listening to the pop as his joints fell into place. He regarded the three men with a stony expression, remaining crouched and ready. 

"Stand down," the gray-haired man ordered. "What's your name, kid?" 

"Hito," Heero said, thinking rapidly. 

"Got a last name?" 

"Young." 

The combination prompted a laugh. "Young person," the gray-haired man translated. "Kids these days. Yeah, I think I've got a job for you." 

"Like that?" Joe sat back down, grabbing his beer with an indignant look at Heero. "Just walk right in and that's that?" 

"Sure," the man said, turning his attention to Heero. "I'm Pops. I run this Sector." 

Heero nodded, once. 

"A man of many words," Pops said, and stood up, pushing his chair back. "Come on... Hito. I think there might be someplace less noisy in the back. Let's go see." 

Heero glanced around once more, noting the two guys groaning on the floor. A third was being helped up, his expression still glazed from being knocked out. After a pause, the ex-pilot followed Pops through the kitchen's swinging doors, down a hallway and into a small room with two chairs and a desk piled high with papers. 

"Have a seat." The man settled himself on another chair, leaning back with a smug expression. "Go ahead. The furniture don't bite." 

Heero seated himself, stretching his legs before curling them under his seat, feeling the rush of fighting keeping him on guard. 

"I'm not the big fish," Pops drawled, clearly at ease. "But I do keep an eye on what's going on, and I've got some folks that need babysitting." The man dug a cigarette pack from inside his jacket. "Want one?" He smiled dryly at Heero's frown, and lit a cigarette, his eyes narrowed through the smoke. "The syndicate has teams, kid. Every team's got its specialty, and I've got one that's lacking muscle." 

Heero raised his eyebrows. 

"The muscle is the distraction guy for a job, while the rest of the team gets the real work done," Pops explained patiently. "And I prefer to hire the muscle myself, so I know there's someone who'll tell me what's going on. Don't like not knowing, if you get my drift." 

Heero nodded, curtly. 

"I don't normally put a newbie like yourself on a team, but this team's got a bad history of... losing its fighters," the man said, his lip curling up, a dimple flashing in his cheek before he grew serious again. "Their track record is oh-for-three, so far. Strange accidents, bad situations, you name it. Nothing I can pin on them, but I'm tired of losing good guys to their antics." 

"I'm disposable." Heero stated it flatly. 

"Exactly." The man's tone was smug. "All you need to do is work with them, keep me informed, and if you survive, it's good money. If you don't..." He shrugged. 

"I'm not sure what I get out of this." 

"Who do you work for?" 

"What?" Heero furrowed his brow. 

"When the chips come down, what do you believe in?" The man was watching him closely. Heero felt like he was being dissected, and he considered the question carefully before answering. 

"Myself." 

"Good." The man stubbed the cigarette out on the floor. "Pay's two hundred credits a week, not including what you make as part of the team." 

"All I have to do is fight?" 

"Looked to me like you can do that just fine." 

Heero crossed his arms, leaning back in the chair as he pondered the situation. Sector Three, no sign of Duo, and now a job offer to be a hired fighter. So far, this search was not going according to plan. Heero chalked it up to Duo's long-distance influence. 

"Head upstairs, get some sleep. First-aid kits are in the bathroom. Take whatever unlocked room you find. We'll send you over tomorrow morning." 

Heero nodded, getting to his feet, and barely stifling a groan. His shoulder and hip were going to need ice. He said as much, and the man grinned wolfishly. 

"So you are human," Pops commented. "Help yourself to ice from the kitchen on your way up. Stairs are at the end of the hallway." He turned towards the desk, dismissing the young man. 

* * *

The shower didn't seem to help much. Heero still felt the filthy bed sheets against his body, even though he'd slept in his clothes. He suspected the chances of returning to the hotel were slim, given the nature of the company he'd landed. He thought for a bit about that, reviewing mentally the belongings in the hotel room. 

A change of clothes and shoes he wouldn't miss anyway, and an old backpack. That was it. He had the cell phone with him, but it was off to save batteries. He hadn't missed any calls when he'd checked before going to bed the night before, so he'd tucked it back into an inside pocket in the leather jacket. The slim digital camera was in the opposite interior pocket. Shrugging, he decided to let the hotel just assume he'd left and wasn't returning. They'd probably contact Bernie, since that had been who'd made the reservations the last two times he'd stayed there. And Bernie could panic or wait, depending on his mood. 

Heero sighed as he pulled the green shirt over his still-damp body and slipped on the jeans. The worst part was wearing the same socks two days in a row. Fortunately enough years in biking shorts had gotten him comfortable going without underwear. He idly recalled his first college roommate declaring that no underwear meant longer between laundry days. The dark-haired young man ran his fingers through his thick hair, stared at himself in the mirror, and gave up. The hair would do the same as always: exactly what it wanted to. 

He was ready when the knock came. It was the redhead, Tiny, who looked mildly disgusted at the early hour, but didn't say anything. He still hadn't said anything fifteen minutes later when he pulled the car up in front of the Sector Three docking bay. He didn't get out of the car, but merely turned to Heero with a grim smile. 

"This is a death warrant, kid," he said. "Sorry, but it is. If there's anyone you wanna call or write, do it now. The folks you're joining are in bay seven. Their ship's ready to leave in about an hour. Make sure you're on it... and good luck." 

Heero nodded and got out of the car. He considered calling Bernie, and decided against it. But he could at least pull out a few more credits. Not too much, but enough to put activity on his account in case anyone needed to know a time and place before he disappeared. There was an automated teller at the docking bay's entrance, and he slid his card in and punched in his code. 

Withdrawing only twenty credits, he was surprised to see the machine printing out a receipt. He never requested those, and he regarded the paper curiously. Instead of showing an account total, or a transaction record, it was three lines of type. 

TAGGED SCYTHE EMAIL. POSSIBLY MOVING OUT SOON.   
TRACK BOTS ON ALL POINTS. ASSUMING HOSTILE.   
BE CAREFUL. RAT AND CREW. 

Heero struggled to keep a straight face. Those hacking bastards, they'd broken their own forum ethics to get his identity. The edges of his lips twitched, and he felt like laughing out loud for the second time in two days. He should have known they'd do to him what he'd had them pull on Duo, but he was equally flattered they'd done it for the sake of continuing their loyal mission. Thus pleased, he considered the printout's information more carefully. 

The track bots were probably those placed by Quatre, and had somehow finally been discovered by someone in the gang. Probably Snake. Where Rat and Pinky had a knack for breaking in, Snake just liked to break things. Heero wondered if Quatre's eyes and ears were temporarily out of order as a result. 

The idea amused him as he shredded the paper, and it was with a slightly lighter heart that he went in search of bay seven. 

* * *

There was a brunette standing at the ship's docking point, holding a clipboard and studying the external identification. She glanced up as Heero approached. 

"Hito Young?" Her voice was high-pitched, almost a squeak, and Heero raised his eyebrows. When he didn't respond further, she shrugged. "Well, Pops warned me but I thought I'd try. I'm Lee, the docking manager. Come on and meet the team." 

The ship was a fast cruiser, built for speed rather than comfort, but Heero took in the design with appreciative eyes. The loading entrance in the back was wide, easily accessible for loading and unloading large cargo. Through the cargo bay was a wide hallway, a straight shot to the pilot's cabin. Rooms on either side, Lee explained in an undertone, were bunks, a small kitchen, and a room for the crew to gather while on autopilot. She slid the door open and Heero followed her in, looking side to side before glancing up to see the three-person crew come to their feet. 

The first face he registered was Hilde's, her blue eyes wide with shock. The second face was Trowa's, his brown hair falling across his face, his one visible green eye narrowing as he took in Heero's dress and stance. The third face was Duo's, whose eyes went from surprised to angry almost immediately. 

There was a long pause in the room, and Lee looked around at the four people, her eyes narrowing speculatively. Hilde stepped forward. 

"This our new muscle?" The petite woman looked Heero up and down as though seeing him for the first time. Her gaze rested momentarily on his bruised cheek. "What happened? Pops already crack him?" 

"Something like that," Lee replied. "He's shipping out with you. Try not to break this one. We're running out of spare muscle." The woman turned to Heero, her gaze bemused as her voice dropped to a stage whisper. "They're not the friendliest but they're decent, if you don't piss them off. That's Trey," she said, nodding to Trowa. "And that's Hel. She runs this joint. And that's Day, our best sneak." Lee grinned, dropping her voice further to reach only Heero's ears. "Don't piss him off." A last glance around the still tableau and she was gone. 

Her footsteps receded down the ship's main passageway and the four people listened as the main loading door slid shut. There was a long silence. No one moved. Trowa's eyes were pasted on Heero's, Hilde was frowning at Duo, and Duo's eyes were wide, his nostrils flaring. Finally, Heero opened his mouth to say something. He didn't get much of a chance before he was thrown halfway across the room. 

Blinking rapidly, he tried to get his bearings, but he was pinned to the floor and a second punch was already landing on his still-bruised jaw. Someone was yelling in the background, and two more punches landed before the person was pulled off him. Heero sat up, getting unsteadily got to his feet. Trowa and Hilde were holding Duo back. Deathscythe's pilot was practically spitting nails as he shouted. 

"There is no fucking _way_ we're letting him on this ship," Duo was yelling. "And get your damned hands off me! This is a sick joke, Hil! Tell Pops to find us someone else, or let me kill him now and get it _over_ with!" 


	5. a careless thief

**27 Jan 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

Time is a brutal and a careless thief  
Who takes our lot but leaves behind the grief  
― Emmy Lou Harris 

Heero got his feet under him, coming to a low stance as he watched Duo warily. Duo's eyes were slits as he glared at Heero. When no one spoke or moved, Duo jerked his arms out of Trowa's and Hilde's hold. 

"You aren't welcome here," he snarled to Heero. "We don't need―" 

"Enough," Hilde snapped. "Day, go fix something." 

The longhaired man started, turning to the girl as a strange expression flashed across his face. A second later he stormed from the room, his braid trailing like a whip. The door slammed shut behind him. 

Heero was puzzled to belatedly register that Duo had looked _hurt_, and filed the observation away. Trowa was still staring at him, and if Heero hadn't just gotten his face slammed for the third time in two days he might've chanced a laugh. The tall man's expression was, as Sammy might say, priceless. 

"Hito!" Hilde snapped her fingers. "Wake up." 

Heero blinked and focused his eyes on the petite girl stepping between him and Trowa. Her lips were pinched tight, but her eyes looked upset, sad even. None of their reactions were what he expected. He wondered if this was what Relena's warning had meant; he hadn't looked hard enough for his motivation and now he was left floundering. 

"Well, what's done is done." Hilde chewed on her lower lip for a second, staring at Heero. "You're bunking with Trey in my room. Trey, you and I are trading places." 

"But," Trowa started to say. Hilde shook her head. 

"I don't want to hear it." Hilde's tone was cold. "Move your stuff, now." She glanced behind Heero, then back at him. "They didn't give you much of a chance to pack, I'd bet." 

Heero just stared at her. 

"Superstitious?" Hilde grinned, and it wasn't a pleasant expression. When Heero didn't reply, she shrugged. "You can use the clothes left behind by the last two guys. You'll be in the last room on the left, just before the cargo hold." She checked her watch. "The loading should be done by now. Once Day's calmed down we'll move out. Trey," she said, her gaze flickering to Trowa. "I told you to move your stuff. I didn't say next week." 

Trowa's green eyes rested for a moment on Hilde, then dropped, acknowledging the order. His passing was nearly silent as the door slid closed behind him, and Hilde waited for another second before turning to Heero. Her shoulders slumped just a little, but her expression was still stern. 

"I don't know what kind of game's being played with us, but if you don't watch your step I can – and will – leave you out to dry." She held up a hand. "Next time you talk to Pops, explain that we don't need muscle, we're not interested in being babysat, and if he doesn't take us seriously we'll take our business elsewhere. Understood?" 

"Hn." 

"I'll take that as a yes." She paused at the sound of something mechanical grinding from the belly of the ship, and stomped her boot heel twice against the floor. "I said fix something, not _break_ something," she yelled to the floor. The sound stopped. She put her hands on her hips, and when she spoke again her voice was calmer. "Hito, get to that bunk, set your ass down and don't move until I or Trey come for you. Got that?" 

Heero nodded. Yesterday was beginning to look like a great day in comparison. 

* * *

Two hours later they were finally leaving the colony behind. Heero watched the docking bay recede through the porthole in the bunkroom. He had taken the empty top bunk and was now lying on his stomach, drifting in and out of sleep, the towel-wrapped ice set aside. If he bruised, so be it. 

His leather jacket was hanging in the small closet, over four small drawers of someone else's clothes, with his boots tucked in underneath. Most of the clothes seemed like they'd fit, and there were clean socks. He smiled to himself. The little things matter when nothing else makes sense. 

The door slid open and Trowa entered. Heero waited as the other pilot seated himself heavily on the bed, then cautiously leaned over to look down. Trowa was leaning forward, his head in his hands. 

"Tro―" He started to ask, quietly. 

"Trey." The man's voice cut him off. 

"Trey." Heero corrected himself with a soft sigh. "What's going on?" 

There was no answer, but Trowa stood up to face Heero. A second later the taller man had taken the bowl of melted ice and the damp towel from the platform next to Heero's bunk. 

"I assume you're done with this." 

"Yeah. Thanks..." Before the words were completely out of his mouth, Trowa was at the door. 

The taller man paused, his head ducked to step out the door, and spoke over his shoulder. "In two hours Day'll step down from the pilot's seat. You'll be up for co-pilot with Hel. One of us will come get you." He didn't wait for Heero's reply. 

* * *

Heero slid into the copilot's seat across from Hilde. The ship was silent except for muffled sounds coming from the gathering room, accompanied by random shouts. The young woman caught Heero's glance down the hallway and shrugged. 

"Video game," she stated, checking a few of the instruments before leaning back. "Autopilot means nothing to do, really," she added nonchalantly. "But I figured you'd go crazy if I tried to keep you in that room for the entire eighteen hours." 

"Yeah." 

"Not even a thanks?" Hilde looked at him, then sighed, looking back at the instrument panel before leaning back to stare out at empty space. In the corner of the view screens Heero could see a thin silver of the bright blue ball of Earth. "How much did Pops tell you?" 

"I'm the distraction guy." Heero kept his voice even. 

"Right. This next job's our biggest so far. You fuck it up, you'll be wearing your balls for earrings." 

Heero tried not to flinch at the visual. This wasn't the Hilde he remembered. He looked sideways, studying her more carefully. She was wearing a dark blue sweater, and her legs were encased in tight black leather. She looked slim, fragile, and casually lethal. 

"This job's gonna be good for our rep. We're to infiltrate a hotel on L4, hack their information, and we can even waste the place when we're done." 

"Hack it?" 

"Their system's not connected to the 'net," she explained. "So Day's gonna have to be on location." 

"What do I do?" Heero shifted in the seat. Day. Duo. He couldn't wrap his head around the name choice. Why Day? 

"I'll decide once Trey's finished recon. Going by past jobs, I'll probably put you someplace where you can attract as much attention as possible." Two buttons lit up, and she leaned over and tapped them, hard. They went off and she sat back. "The definition of 'attracting attention' changes with the job." 

Heero grunted, and the cockpit was quiet. 

Heero mused on the changes he'd noted in Duo, the first of which was that Heero was now an inch or two taller than the American. The quick glimpse as Duo had left the cabin proved Quatre's comment had been true; Duo's braid was only to his waist. Heero wondered what had prompted Duo to cut it, or worse, what had cut it for him. He couldn't see the Deathscythe pilot willingly parting with that stupid length of hair, but he couldn't see Duo thieving for the syndicate, either. 

It didn't make sense... and it was all somehow related to Hilde. 

Heero chanced another sidelong look at Hilde. Her black hair was chopped bluntly at chin length, the front still falling into her face like he remembered. The girl's eyes were closed, her lashes dark against her pale cheeks. Her arms were crossed, and she'd propped her feet up on the console. She'd been the reason Duo had come for Trowa, he recalled, but she also seemed to be the one in charge here. That intrigued Heero, since he recalled Duo arguing repeatedly with Hilde about her involvement back during the first war. Duo had wanted her to stay out of it. He'd wanted to keep her safe. 

Heero's lip twisted up, a wry awareness. Even Duo had someone to protect. Trowa had Catherine, Heero had Relena... and Duo had Hilde. So why was Hilde here, now, running a team for the syndicate? And why had Duo let her? 

He looked over to see she was watching him, grinning in a way that rather uncomfortably reminded him of Duo's Cheshire looks. 

"Did you know Day collects art?" 

Heero's eyebrows shot up his forehead. That was not the opening statement he'd expected to hear from the young woman. Caught off-guard, he could only stare at her, his eyes slowly narrowing as he waited for her to continue speaking. 

"I'm going to tell you this much," Hilde said in a reasonable tone. "When we were in school, he worked part-time. He didn't need to, having a full scholarship, but it was for his own expenses... and he spent all that money on buying art." 

"He likes art?" Heero blurted the question out despite himself. 

Hilde shook her head. "I didn't say that. He just liked this one guy's work." 

"Was it a pho..." His voice trailed off, and he turned his face away from Hilde, a frown marring his features. 

"Yeah." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the control panel, and stared at the sliver of earth now receding at the side of the ship. "So you see, you've got some figuring out to do, if you want to make this work." 

Heero didn't say anything. He couldn't think of anything to say. He was having too much difficulty keeping himself in mission mode. The emotions he'd learned to display over the past five years were struggling to reach the surface, and he wasn't even sure what those emotions might be. 

There was a shout from the gathering room, followed by a crash. Hilde glanced back into the ship's main hallway. "You need to get back to your bunk. Trey just won, so they'll both be out in a few minutes. I'll have Trey bring you dinner." 

The dark-haired man got to his feet, vaguely aware that two hours had slipped past. He paused in the doorway, then thought better of it, heading down the hallway without a backwards glance. 

* * *

The dinner was miso soup and tofu teriyaki. Heero stared at the tray, completely at a loss. The last time he'd ever had reason to eat with the rest of the pilots they'd had some Arabic dish, courtesy Quatre's abilities. He'd introduced Wufei to sushi, once, with questionable results, and he couldn't recall much about Duo's eating habits other than an assumption that the guy liked beer, pizza, and ice cream. Heero was doubly startled, therefore, when he gingerly tasted the teriyaki and discovered it was quite good. 

He looked up to see Trowa watching him. Heero froze with the chopsticks halfway to his mouth, one eyebrow raised. Trowa shrugged in response and moved out of Heero's line of sight, lying down on the lower bunk. 

"What do I do with the dishes when I'm done?" Heero asked. 

"Leave them." 

"Am I some kind of prisoner?" Heero hoped his voice sounded neutral, especially since it sounded nearly wistful to his own ears. Mission mode, his mind screamed, mission mode. 

"You signed up for this," Trowa replied. "We didn't do the inviting." 

But if I'd had the choice between them and a different team, Heero told himself silently, I would've taken this anyway. He paused, staring down at the Japanese spoon resting next to the bowl of miso. But would I have taken it if I knew this was the reception I'd get? He wasn't sure. 

"I signed up to work for Pops," he finally said. 

"Don't forget that," came the low response. "We won't." 

* * *

Four hours later, Trowa woke Heero for his turn to use the shower before taking co-pilot again. The water was tepid, and recycled, but Heero now had a change of clothes and could care less about the temperature as long as he got clean. Shutting the water off while he soaped up, he listened to the creaking sound of the ship's metal, feeling the chill of deep space seeping into the hold. It was somehow comforting, after so long of only taking heavily insulated commercial shuttles with padded seats and premixed drinks. 

Although a drink of any kind would be good right now, he thought. 

Heero ran his fingers through his hair, and once again gave up after a few swipes. Pulling the borrowed clothes on, he listened carefully through the door before sliding it open. The main passageway was empty, and he headed up to the cockpit to join Trowa. The man acknowledged his arrival with a curt nod. 

"ETA, six hours." 

Heero didn't reply. Soon it seemed that Trowa was asleep, his arms crossed and his head down. Heero leaned back in his own seat, staring out into space. They were angled away from the earth, now, and it felt as though they were merely drifting, without a single foundation on which to base their progress. 

The sensation felt like home. Heero wondered if this was because, in some ways, that's just how he'd been living for the past five years. 

* * *

He'd slept the final four hours, his mind finally shutting down enough to dream, although he couldn't remember anything but disjointed images when he awoke. Trowa was already up, pulling on a sports coat over his turtleneck. He was wearing khaki pants, and Heero stared for a few seconds, curious. Trowa saw the look and smiled, a tentative expression. 

"Hotel security," he said. "Get dressed. Hel wants you to go with her into the colony for exterior recon. Fifteen minutes," Trowa said, and left. 

Heero pushed the covers back and dropped gracefully to the floor. The ship's engines were whining louder now as the pilot – probably Duo – reversed thrust to slow the ship down for landing. Heero dug into the closet for a shirt, mildly aggravated that the previous muscle had been a size larger and three inches taller. Heero had cut off the bottoms of one pair of jeans, but there was nothing to be done about the shirt's large neckline. 

He was pulling on his boots when the ship shook, once, as the landing gear touched down. The auto-tug locked in with a thud. The ship began moving again, pulled towards its docking station inside the bay. He waited, counting the minutes. At fourteen minutes since Trowa had woken him, there was a knock on the door, and he slid it open to see Hilde pacing. 

"Come on," she barked. "If I've gotta drag your ass to breakfast, least you could do is not make me wait." 

The irritation was clear, but Heero wasn't certain it had anything to do with him personally. He settled for nodding, fully aware the tension was already high enough on the ship. She'd been right. He had some figuring out to do if he was going to make it through this. 

The only problem was that he couldn't see how he could figure out anything if no one was going to talk to him. 

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, have a two-dollar bill taped to the wall in my kitchen. Hey, just how often do you see those, anyway? Worth saving, I say! 

Kiya_Sama: Whew. What a relief. And here I was worried you'd blast me for the Bastard Duo, Bastard Trowa implications... but by the time you read this response, I'm sure you'll have more to say. (I hope. And I hope it's good things, too.) 

Taigne: I was going to have it all get spilled in this chapter, but I realized – do any of us tell what's going on, right away, if we were mad enough to spit nails? So I'm afraid this means Duo's out of sight for a little while, as Hilde and Trowa maneuver to keep the peace. But never fear, it will all be explained. Eventually! 

Westwind: Oh, it's so nice to hear I'm not too off-base with a Potential Heero Character Development... it's one of the hardest things to write IMO, and even more so because Heero's just plain hard to write for anyway. Not as much as Dorothy, who IMO is just one freakin' nightmare of a damn Mary Sue. She badgers, she pilots, she even does Mobile Dolls! And people think Relena's irritating. Oh, hm. Where was I? Right. Anyway, very glad you like... 

Crimson: Well, your first guess about the biker was wrong, and your second guess... if you read the commentary you'll see the answer, but I figured the story itself was stronger if it's not obvious quite yet. I didn't realize I'd just gone and spoiled it so badly, but the commentary was already up so for once I decided to be lazy. I try not to leave folks hanging, but isn't one chapter a day ENOUGH? ;-) 


	6. for all I care

**27 Jan 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

You say love is a hell you cannot bear   
And I say gimme mine back and then go there,   
for all I care  
― Fiona Apple 

Duo was waiting for them at the diner. 

Heero and Hilde had spent the day in the hospitality section of the tourism satellite. The hotels, used by holiday visitors as well as corporate guests, were concentrated in the satellite's third sector, away from the theme parks, museums, shopping malls, and entertainment multiplexes. Heero was relieved they could avoid the first and second sectors, and the need to claw their way past hundreds of screaming children and frazzled adults. It was enough work dealing with Hilde's bad mood. 

She was silent company at breakfast, but the food was decent. Afterwards Hilde led the way to the large hotel where the mark would be staying. She had apparently intended to use the map and make notes of her observations, but Heero was ready with an idea of his own. 

Using the digital camera in his jacket pocket, he stationed Hilde at specific points and captured every view she wanted. It meant a hundred pictures of her, which she grumbled about for a moment, but once she saw the previews she decided to overlook that detail. The only drawback was that well-meaning tourists frequently offered to take pictures of them together. There were now about twenty pictures in the collection that Heero was busy deleting as he followed Hilde to their final stop, a small diner on the edge of the employee's residential sector. That's where Duo was waiting when they walked through the door. 

Within seconds it was clear that Duo was in professional mode, and Heero noted the change with a barely-covered sigh of relief. Deathscythe's pilot had ordered beers for himself and Hilde, and tea for Heero. The dark-haired man grunted to himself. He would've liked a glass of whiskey, but he doubted this dive would have it. 

"What'd ya get," Duo asked Hilde once the orders were made and the menus removed. Hilde laid out the maps she'd purchased, and began explaining the traffic patterns she'd observed. When she paused, Heero set the camera down and pushed it across the table. 

"Hey, isn't that―" Duo asked excitedly as he picked up the camera, then his mouth shut suddenly, cutting off his own words. He flipped the camera over and began sorting the images on the view screen. Nodding at a few points, he suddenly grinned at the girl. "Check that, Hel. Gotta print me that one." 

"What?" Hilde leaned over, frowned, and smacked Duo. "Do your job. Did I get enough?" 

"Mostly," Duo said with a shrug. He tucked the camera in his pocket. "I'll download the 'pegs when I get back to the ship. You find the place for meeting Trey?" 

"Yeah," Hilde replied. The food arrived, and the table was quiet for several minutes while they took the edge off their hunger. 

"Anything else worth noting?" Duo pushed his empty plate away from him and signaled the waitress for another beer. He hadn't asked anyone in particular, so Heero decided to chance it. 

"Saw couple of middle-eastern looking men, same ones, several times. Clothes too nice for employees, too cheap for guests. Maybe exterior security." 

"What's your point?" Duo's voice had gone from casual to immediately defensive. There was a thump from under the table and he scowled at Hilde. "_Worth_ noting, I said." 

Heero refrained from answering, letting his gaze slide away to watch the rest of the diner. Beside him Hilde was wrapping up the maps and the scribbled notes. She shoved the bundle at Duo. 

"I'm off to meet Trey," she informed them. "Get back to the shuttle, you two, and I expect to find you both alive and in one piece when I return." 

"Take him with you, then," Duo muttered. "I'm not interested." 

"I'll wait here," Heero interjected. Neither of the other two replied, until Duo nodded. Heero caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and automatically turned to look. The thief was already gone. Hilde was staring at the table, her face showing a mix of frustration and sadness as she chewed on her lower lip. Heero raised an eyebrow at her, and she shook her head. 

"I'll be back in an hour," she told him, and was quickly gone as well. 

* * *

Heero waited five minutes before tossing a handful of credits on the table. There was a 'net café a few doors down, and he needed to check in. It was a bit of a hassle getting through the forum's security with an unfamiliar ISP, but he finally managed to navigate the system, spoof his home IP, and log in. 

Heero was aggravated to see he hadn't managed to completely fool the security when he discovered he had a yellow smiley-face avatar. "Damn it, guys," he typed without preamble. "This is Wing." 

"Prove it," Hand replied. Pinky wasn't in; Rat and Snake were listed as busy but present. 

"Tell Rat I got his bank notice." 

"It worked?" Mike the Hand made his avatar flick Heero off. "Sloppy, to use that account!" 

"It was on purpose," Heero replied. "Set a time and location for last known activity." 

"Did you find Deathscythe?" Rat was back on active in the window. Snake's avatar was flicking its tongue at Heero's smiley face. A minute later the smiley face was replaced with a dove's wing. 

Heero's lips quirked. "Yeah," he said. "But it's SNAFU." 

"So the mission isn't complete." Rat's avatar did a little dance. 

"Not even close," the man typed after some thought. "Any news on the track bots?" 

"Some," Rat typed. "Pinky's been working on that. She had to go. I can get her back, if you've got ten." 

"I don't," Heero replied. "Can you summarize?" 

"She thinks the track bots are actually piggybacking email relays." 

"What?" 

"They carry encrypted messages. We've been running them through various programs, trying to break down the security. So far, no proof her theory's right but we're working on it." 

"Good. I'll check in when I can." 

"Got a lot of money in your account." Snake's avatar positively smirked. 

"Touch it, and I'll fry your hardboards." Heero's avatar waved back. 

"This is me quaking!" Hand jumped in with a taunt, and then switched topics. "So about the cloaking mechanism?" 

"I'll get you the answer next time I'm around and have time," Heero promised. He logged off without further word, sitting back as he wiped the terminal of its record of his activities. 

Track bots used as message relays. 

Who would be messaging who, and why through such an intricate system? They couldn't be time-dependent messages, since it could take a day or two in the decoding process. Ignoring, of course, the difficulty of moving through the system without alerting anyone else. Too much traffic in and out of any relay server hosting the nested track bots would immediately alert any server administrators as to the bots' existence. 

The photographer glared at the blank terminal screen. He'd spent five years trying to learn how to express himself, trying to get used to offering explanations and asking for them rather than just going everything alone. And for all that, every answer just brought more questions. It was overwhelming. 

Heero got up from the terminal with a sigh, and headed back to the diner to wait for Hilde's return. 

* * *

"Got a job for you," Hilde said the next morning as she entered the bunkroom without knocking. She dumped a bag on Trowa's bed and stepped up on the edge, hauling herself up so she could see over the upper bunk. Heero glanced over, his chin resting on his forearms as he lay on his stomach. 

"Hn?" 

"Laundry. Money's in the outer pocket. Everything on cold, it's easier. Throw in your own stuff, there's plenty to pay for it." She took his breakfast tray and let herself down, then sniffed. "Trey's laundry should be easy to find. Follow the smell." 

Heero got down once she'd gone. Collecting his dirty clothes and Trowa's, he piled everything into the bag and headed to the Laundromat she'd pointed out the day before. 

It was mid-afternoon before he'd returned, having extended his time away from the ship's tense atmosphere by folding everything neatly while at the Laundromat. Duo's clothes were easy to identify, being nothing but black jeans, black socks, and black long-sleeve shirts. Heero balked at discovering Hilde wore brightly colored silk underwear consisting of about three inches of fabric, but was relieved to see her bras were more respectable athletic gear. He could only take so much. Trowa's laundry was nothing but blue jeans, long-sleeved turtlenecks, and white boxers. Heero grinned wryly to himself, remembering the tallest pilot's unvarying style during the wars. 

Everything was packed back into the bag. He contemplated stopping by the 'net café again, but decided against it, opting instead to duck into a newsstand for something to read. He paused for several minutes over the latest issues of LensArtist and PhotoWord, and then passed them over in favor of less revealing choices on interstellar news, business, and politics. Grabbing two pulp novels at random from the stand, he paid for his purchases and headed back to the ship. 

He was nearly to the docking bay when he saw a shape out of the corner of his eye that looked familiar and instinctively slowed down to check it out. There was a couple sitting on a cargo box, about thirty feet from the ship, with their backs to the main walkway between the bays. The long auburn braid snaking down the man's back, its tip just grazing his belt, was the giveaway. 

Duo. 

Seated next to him was Hilde, her black hair ruffled and flyaway against the collar of her shirt. Duo's arm was around her, and her head was resting on Duo's shoulder. Heero paused, wondering if he should continue walking, but curiosity got the better of him. Stealthily he moved closer, keeping a shoulder-high stack of cargo boxes between himself and the couple. 

"...six months," Hilde was saying. Her words were muffled, and Heero had to concentrate to pick out the timbre of her voice over the ambient noise of the mid-afternoon docking station. "Can't... I know he'd want..." 

"Hilde," Duo's voice said, louder, a little annoyed. "Gotta hang in there. You're doing a great job." 

"You say that," she replied. "But I keep... I miss..." 

Heero couldn't catch any more of what she was saying, but he watched her head dipping down into the curve of Duo's neck and shoulder, and realized the girl's back was shaking gently. Duo's arm moved. He was rubbing her lower back in circles, and his cheek rested on the top of her head. 

"Look," Duo suddenly said, louder. Heero chanced another glimpse, and saw Duo had turned on the box to face Hilde, lifting her chin up with a finger to look into her eyes. The overhead lights picked up the reflection of a tear, poised on her jaw. "I love ya, babe. If..." 

"No," she interrupted, putting a hand up over Duo's lips. Her position, turned to see Duo, made her words finally understandable. "I love you, too, Duo, but you deserve better than being my consolation prize." 

There was a deep sigh, and when Heero looked again, Duo was hugging Hilde tightly. 

"And I won't be yours, either," she was saying. 

* * *

Heero left the bag with Hilde's and Duo's clothes in the hallway outside their door. He'd pondered leaving the bag inside their room, but wasn't interested in having the action misread as a violation of privacy. The bruises on his face were fading nicely. No reason to freshen them up now with a misstep. 

He left Trowa's clothes on the lower bunk and put away his own clothes. He hopped up onto his bunk, lay on his stomach facing the window, and busied himself with reading. 

The bunkroom's door was half-open, allowing some air exchange in the otherwise still cabin. There was a whoosh as the loading door was opened, and Duo's heavy tread in the hallway, followed by Hilde's lighter steps. Heero paused in the middle of turning a page and wondered whether the thief's noisy movement was intentional advance warning. Duo had always moved nearly as cat-silent as Heero. 

"Laundry? Hel," Duo chided. "How'd this happen?" 

"Didn't see you volunteering," she retorted. Her voice floated through the half-open door behind the two. "Besides, I'm still recovering from turning Trey's boxers green." 

"He wasn't that mad about it!" 

"He was too," she replied, her tone a little sullen. "He almost had an expression on his face." 

"He always has an expression," Duo said, laughing. "It's called a poker face." The door to the other bunkroom skated open, and there was a thump and a sliding sound. One of the two had kicked the bag into the room. The conversation got quieter for a few minutes, then the bunkroom door opened again. 

"I'll be back in an hour," Duo said, his voice echoing down the main passageway. 

"Day!" Hilde's voice was an exasperated cry. "Here, too?" 

"Every port," came the reply. "If I didn't, you'd think I was coming down with something." 

"Keep it up and you will." 

"Squeamish?" His tone was light. 

"Me? No... it's just... Oh!" She made an aggravated sound, between a snort and a cry. "You and Trey!" Something hit the wall in the hallway, and Duo started laughing again. 

"We're men, or haven't you noticed?" 

"Men? Boys!" 

Duo laughed again, the sound fading with his receding footsteps. Heero lay on his bunk, the magazine forgotten under his fingertips. After a minute he got up and undid the prop to let the door slide completely shut. 

He stared at the closed door for a few seconds, trying to put his finger on what was bothering him. It wasn't that he suspected Duo had most likely gone to meet up with a local prostitute. It was something else. It wasn't until he'd climbed back onto his bunk and read several more pages before he realized. In the hallway, Hilde had called the Deathscythe pilot by his alias: Day. 

But outside, on the cargo boxes, she'd called him Duo. 

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, have a ship's clock. One bell! Two bells! Eight bells! I now understand the references to bells when I reread Captains Courageous (one of my favorite Kipling stories), but I still don't know what time it is. 

Nlp: What? Am I actually managing some level of angst? Wow! Heero is proving to be very hard to write, on some levels, because he really is a character who doesn't give or expect explanations, and usually assumes everything is on a need-to-know basis. So putting him in a position where he knows nothing makes it hard, sometimes, to gauge how he'd handle it. Fortunately he doesn't seem to be armed, so announcing his mission is complete and putting a gun to his head isn't an option. Whew, or it'd be a very short story, eh? 

Kiya_Sama: and if you're anxious waiting for the next chapter, imagine how I feel! I was expecting them to have already gotten in, gotten out, and blown the place to smithereens by now. But noooo... there was stuff in the way. I'm blaming Duo. 

With many thanks also to Netta J, who's been cheering from email. ;-) 


	7. change the future

**27 Jan 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

And it hurts my mind to think of  
all the stupid things I said;  
and if I can change the future,  
I would change the past instead.  
― Danny Elfman 

The clock read two-thirty-seven in the morning, standard time. 

Heero flipped over on his stomach and stared out the porthole at the darkened station. A minute later he switched to his back and stared up at the ceiling. Several rotations later, he sat up in disgust. 

Landing lightly on the floor, he pulled on his black jeans. He paused at the door, listening for sounds before slipping into the hallway and heading for the bathroom. When he returned to the bunkroom, he picked up the dishes from dinner and took them to the kitchen. He wasn't sure how lightly Duo and Hilde slept, so he left the dishes in the sink with the rest and headed back to his room. Once there, he stood, aimless, for several more minutes. 

Dinner had been two South Asian dishes with basmati rice. A spinach dish, and a type of curried stew with several vegetables he didn't recognize but were delicious nonetheless. He'd poked at each dish once or twice before realizing his mouth was watering from the smell. Heero wondered idly if there were leftovers in the kitchen. No one seemed to be awake, anyway. 

A few minutes later he was hovering over the open fridge and had found a small plastic container with the curried stew. Grabbing a fork he headed back to his room and perched on Trowa's bunk while he ate. 

Nothing was making sense, but if he didn't stop at some point to think hard, he wasn't sure he'd ever catch up. More importantly, he needed out of the mission headspace. He wasn't sure he could hold up if he didn't take a break. The questions were piling up. 

Just before going to bed, only six hours earlier, an idea had struck him. He'd put down his book and dug around in the closet, pulling out each drawer and feeling over it carefully before replacing each. Then he'd felt up and down the walls of the closet, the door, even removing each mattress. He'd found at least seven bumps that gave way slightly under the paint, nearly paper thin but definitely there. If they were a type of listening device, then the false names made more sense. 

He speared a vegetable with the fork and contemplated the discovery. Why would Duo, the master of so many electronic devices, reside on a ship so loaded with bugs? Wasn't this his, or Hilde's, ship? And if it wasn't, what were they doing on it? 

Heero filed those questions away and considered the next set of questions as he slowly chewed the spicy leftovers. Duo, Trowa, and Hilde were using false names within range of the listening devices. So outside of the ship, wouldn't they use their own names? The dark-haired man considered that carefully. While at the diner, he was certain Duo and Hilde had referred to each other as Hel and Day. The only conclusion he could draw was that they were near another listening device. It was a second before it dawned on him. 

They thought _he_ was a listening device, too. 

Heero registered the dish was empty when the fork clattered against the plastic. He returned it to the kitchen, still lost in thought. Trowa had warned they wouldn't forget he was hired by Pops, and both Duo and Hilde had said that they didn't like Pops hiring him. Maybe, Heero hoped, it wasn't that they didn't like him, but simply that they didn't want their movements curtailed by a snitch. 

He snorted. Likely story. 

Back in his room, Heero leaned against the wall, staring at the bunks, and slowly slid down the wall to rest his forehead on his knees. He forced his breathing deeper, feeling the constriction in his chest as he unlocked himself from mission mode. 

The ex-pilot relaxed as he ran through the past days' observations. Duo's voice was a shade deeper, but still a honey tenor. His body was taller but just as slender, hiding a great deal of power. His hair was a foot or so shorter, but still kept in a thick braid of reddish brown. His eyes were still that strange blue tilting into purple in the right light. He still liked gadgets, judging by his first reaction to the camera. He could still pilot like nobody's business. With everything so familiar, why in the hell did Heero feel like Duo was a complete stranger? 

"What do I feel," he whispered. 

_Hurt._

Duo doesn't want me here, he thought. The realization, stated baldly, hit him with an almost palpable ache. It wasn't just his employment through Pops. It wasn't just his intrusion into the team. It wasn't just a matter of having to deal with an unknown variable. It was him. 

Duo wasn't his friend anymore. 

Heero chuckled, low and bitter. Was it really only a week ago that he was telling the hackers' forum that he'd used Duo's name as an alias because Duo had been the first friend he'd ever had? Because Duo meant something to him, even that early in the war? The thief was obnoxious, irreverent, and nothing like Heero thought a soldier should be, but he was an unvarying point of light in Heero's world. 

That wasn't supposed to change. 

Heero clutched at his head, his eyes squeezed tight. What was he expecting? What had he really wanted? 

He'd wanted to find Duo and have it like it was before. He wanted Duo laughing, wrapping his arm around the Wing Zero pilot at the most inopportune times, and chatting with Deathscythe like the damn thing was sentient. 

He'd wanted to show how much he'd changed, that he could talk, too. He'd worked for five years to be the kind of person that could be a friend. 

Was it all wasted effort? 

Duo had shot Heero and yet also rescued him, getting him out of OZ's hands. Trowa had saved Heero's life, as well, after he'd self-destructed, and later, putting himself in Quatre's line of fire. What if those friendships weren't there, once the war was over? What if they weren't ever friends in the first place, but only soldiers fulfilling the obligations of brothers-in-arms? 

Heero laid his head to the side and stared at the closed bunkroom door, the tears stinging his eyes as he fought to keep control of himself. He'd waited too long, he told himself angrily. He'd always thought there would be a right time to show up. Somewhere, in his heart, he'd always dreamed that he'd come back and they'd all welcome him. He'd be able to show them he could do something other than be a fighting machine. He'd finally get a chance to show the only people that mattered to him that he was something worthwhile, too, that he had a purpose beyond destruction. 

But he'd been scared, he admitted silently, and that fear had made him wait for the perfect time. The thought made him smile, a sardonic expression. He wasn't the perfect soldier anymore, and there was no perfect time. There never would be. 

He pushed the swirling accusations away and focused on slowing his heartbeat. 

"What else," he asked himself, his voice barely louder than a breath. 

_Jealousy._

Duo and Hilde, best friends, talking in the way he'd want from a friend. The girl was worried about her role in the group, which had surprised Heero. She'd come across as capable, powerful, and knowledgeable. The dark-haired man lifted his head and leaned it against the wall, ignoring the tears drying on his cheeks. If only he'd been better able to hear what she'd been saying, he might have a better glimpse into what was going on. He might understand better why Duo and Hilde loved each other, and what was hurting them both. 

"What else," he murmured, a soft question. 

_Loneliness._

Hilde had implied that Duo had bought some of Heero's photography. Why? If Duo didn't care, and wasn't a friend, why would he give a damn what Heero was doing? Why would he have gone through the effort to crack the photographer's anonymity? How did he figure out that Heero Yuy and Hito Yuy were the same person, when no pictures or biographies of Hito Yuy had been published? 

That last one puzzled Heero the most, and he sighed, trying to let the tension drain from his neck and shoulders, down his lax arms to his palms pressed against the ship's steel floor. If Duo had figured out Hito Yuy's real identity, why hadn't he contacted Heero? Why would he just purchase the art from a distance and never say anything, never send a letter, never try to call? 

The ache in Heero's chest grew stronger, and he let his forehead fall down to rest on his knees again. None of it was making sense. What had he done to make Duo not want him near? He'd thought Duo, of anyone, would understand, would be there, waiting, when Heero was ready. 

And he wasn't. 

Heero laid his cheek on his knees again and stared at the bunkroom door ten feet away. Four feet past that and he'd be at Duo's door. He could knock, wake the pilot up, and ask him outright. The young man chuckled softly, certain the only result would be another furious pounding. 

If I could just figure out why, I'd fix it. I'd do something to make it like it was, he swore, or make it better. If I could just figure out what I did wrong in the first place, I'd never do it again. 

* * *

The door slid open and Hilde bumped the light switch with her elbow. A second later she'd placed the breakfast tray on Trowa's bed and was kneeling by Heero. 

"Hito," she called softly. "What are you doing on the floor?" 

Heero looked up, dazed, and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles before he realized he was still on the floor, his back to the wall. He wondered if his eyes were red. 

"I fell asleep," he told the young woman. 

"I could see that," she said. "Where I come from, that's what beds are for." 

He started to glare, and stopped himself. A smile flitted across his face as he uncurled and slowly stood up. "Shit. I think my ass is asleep." 

"What?" Hilde managed to choke out around her laughter. "Oh, man, that's not what I expected to hear." 

"Oh?" Heero raised an eyebrow as he reviewed the items on the breakfast tray with a modicum of suspicion. A poached egg, miso soup, and pickles: a traditional Japanese breakfast. What the hell was up with the international menu, anyway? Heero leaned over and grabbed a shirt from the closet, pulling it over his head as he listened to Hilde's laughter subside into giggles. "Maybe you misjudged me," he added quietly. 

"Maybe," she replied. Her next words were in a more somber tone. "Eat your breakfast and I'll give you the rundown on your job." 

"What time is it?" Heero couldn't see the clock. Hilde was standing in the way. 

"Five," she replied. 

"Early." 

"I didn't think you'd want breakfast after it had been sitting for hours." She smirked. 

He nibbled tentatively on a pickle. It was excellent, he had to admit. Not something he ate very often. He'd gotten used to western breakfasts over the past six or seven years. 

"Who the hell cooks breakfast at five in the morning," Heero muttered, more to the poached egg than to Hilde. 

"Didn't see you volunteering," she retorted. It seemed to be a classic phrase of hers. 

"I would, if you let me out of my cage long enough," Heero shot back. He was rewarded with another cheeky grin. "I can cook," he mumbled and shoved the egg into his mouth. 

"You're one up on me," she told him, and leaned against the wall. The grin faded as she began to speak in a more even tone. "The mark changed his plans. He's here a day early, so we're going in this afternoon. You have between now and three o'clock this afternoon to come up with a distraction that will get most of the hotel security out of the way." 

Heero stirred the miso soup before answering. "Fire alarm?" 

"Nope," she said. "That'll get security _into_ the building to help guests get out. You can do better than that." 

"I'll come up with something." Heero savored the flavor on his tongue before swallowing. "Afterwards?" 

She grinned, a flash across her face. "Move out in the direction of the diner where we ate, and then come back around to the ship. We'll be leaving at six." 

"What's the timetable on the job itself?" 

Hilde's blue eyes darkened a shade. "I'm not giving you all the details." 

"Give me what you can." 

"We head in at three-thirty, and we should be out by four." 

"Should," Heero repeated, one eyebrow raised. "How will I know?" 

"When you see flames shooting from the top floor," she said, matching his eyebrow with two of her own, teasing. "Oh, and maybe a few explosions." 

"I'll keep my eyes open so I don't miss the show," Heero told her. His muscles were cramped from sleeping on the hard floor, but he felt better than he had since first landing in the whole mess. Glancing up from his breakfast, he gave the petite brunette a shy smile, and was pleased to see her answer the smile with one of her own. 

A thought occurred to him, and he paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth. "You available for the earliest part of getting attention?" 

"What did you have in mind?" 

"Nothing too dangerous." Heero finished the miso, tilting the bowl to get the last dregs. "I'll be back in an hour, maybe two, if it works. You going to be around?" 

"Sure." Hilde grinned and snagged a pickle from his tray. "Can't wait." 

* * *

Heero was back two and a half hours later, and breathing a little hard from the delightful exertion of running half of the way back to the docking station. Fortunately Hilde was still at the ship, sitting on the loading dock's ledge and sipping a cup of tea. 

"You're late," she said, as he trotted up. "You also look like you've gained fifteen pounds," she added critically. 

"Yeah," Heero replied. "I feel like it, too." 

She followed him into his bunkroom. He knew the ship was empty, and he could've headed for the gathering room, but he'd yet to step foot in there. That small voice inside his head was telling him not to go there. It was Duo's space, and he wasn't invited... yet. He pushed the awareness away from his mind and focused. Mission mode, he reminded himself sternly. 

"Well?" Hilde followed him into the bunkroom and watched as he shed his leather jacket, revealing a second jacket underneath. It was covered in patches, and considerably more beaten up than his own second-hand purchase. 

"This," he said, and pulled off the second jacket. Digging into one of the pockets, he pulled out a small book. "And this." Then he pulled out his cell phone from his own jacket, and placed it on the bed next to the jacket and the book. "And this." 

"Nice collection. Does it have a purpose?" 

"Yes," he told her, flashing a quick grin. "How are you at flirting?" 

"Passable," she said, and smirked. 

"Yelling?" 

"No problem." 

"Good." He flipped through the book a few times, and nodded to himself. This just might work, he thought, and then glanced up at Hilde's confused expression. "You've just turned into my date for the afternoon." 

"Kissing involved?" Deadpan. 

"It'll cost extra," he replied, just as tonelessly. 

She grinned, another Cheshire flash, and Heero's heart twisted for a second, seeing someone else's face. Annoyed with himself, he squashed the thought. 

"Okay," he said, once he had his voice under control. "Now all I need to know is whether Trey's covering the hotel restaurant." 

"I think so. He's supposed to be stationed near the front." 

"Good. Let's hope he picks up on the game." Heero's lip twitched up at the corners and he began explaining his plan to the attentive girl. 

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, own a table saw that badly needed to be scrubbed, de-rusted, and waxed. Am I doing that? Noooo. I'm sitting here WRITING, so I demand credit! Or at least an absence of plushies. 

Kiya_Sama: ph34r my l33t h33r0! Ah-hah, you got your wish. Do let me know if you think Heero has now been reduced to a completely OOC weepy pinhead. Geesh, I hope not... 

Schachzug: It's okay, I don't know what's going to happen next either. As for free beer, yes, I get this logic. This makes sense to me. Now, to get someone to inadvertently bump the clock... 

Crimson: You asked so nicely, I updated again! Wow! Imagine that! No, really. I just can't get the damn story to go away long enough to get much else done, so I figure... write, and worry about work later. But I'm very glad you like. ;-) 

Dyna: Yeah, well, I'm going on the assumptions that he's still very private, and that he's always been first and foremost the kind of person who takes things at face value and analyzes them slowly and thoroughly. Used to be his laptop that was his cover, then the darkroom, now a book. Hopefully it's all still IC. *sweatdrop* 

Nlp: If this is the appetizer, the main dishes are going to take up eighteen courses! Really, eight chapters is a long appetizer... but then, I like longer stories. I prefer reading them and I always end up writing them. One of these days I'm going to write a one-shot. Honest. 


	8. in the fear and alarm

**27 Jan 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

In the fear and alarm  
You did not desert me,  
My brothers in arms  
― Mark Knopfler 

At ten the next morning Heero was standing at an automated teller two blocks from the docking station. His expression was as stern as ever, but inside he was grinning like an idiot as he read the printed slip. 

DECODED TWO BOTS.  
PINKY SAYS LOVEBIRDS.  
GET YER ASS ONLINE. 

Heero made short work of the six blocks to the nearest 'net café. Sliding into the seat at the only terminal facing the door, he quickly accessed the system and hoped someone would be there despite the early hour. He suspected most of the hackers were still school age, judging by the hours they kept, but someone was usually around in the morning. 

The 'someone' turned out to be Snake. Heero was relieved. He wasn't sure he was up for dealing with Hand, despite the kid's enthusiasm. 

"Snake, it's Wing." 

"Nice smiley-face." 

Heero grunted at the screen and cut to the chase. "What's this about decoding two bots?" 

"We cracked the code. Got two messages figured out." 

"What are they?" Heero glanced around at the nearly empty café and huddled a little closer to the screen. 

"The first was: I love you. Be safe." 

"What the hell?" 

"Same thing I said." Snake's avatar smirked. "That track bot, by the way, had a modify date from about two months ago. The second is: Located Wing. It was modified about three days ago, so we caught it pretty fast after its upload." 

"Good work." 

Snake's avatar wiggled for a second before the typing appeared. "There's just one problem. The pink-haired freak broke the first bot." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Corrupted error on downloading, and it was flagged in the system. Rat got in about two hours later, in time to see the system administrators were cleaning out the server. Word is out already to other admins to check their relays. News travels fast, so it's possible all the bots are wiped." 

"Shit." Heero glared at the screen. Now they'd have to start over from the beginning to find Quatre's eyes and ears. He was certain it was the Arab's handiwork, thanks to Relena's comments. But why, then, would Quatre be piggybacking messages on a tracking bot that said he'd located the Wing Zero pilot? And who was reading at the other end? 

"We got about five more downloaded but the rest are already history. We should have the rest decoded by tomorrow at latest." Snake's avatar flicked its tail at Heero's smiley face. "Any news on your end?" 

"Too long to go into now. After today may be out of touch for another day or two, but will stop by when I can. Tell Mike I haven't forgotten." 

"Neither has he. Damn idiot." 

"Over and out." Heero signed off, cleaned up the terminal's cache, and ordered a cup of coffee as he pondered the messages. He had four hours before meeting up with Hilde outside the hotel, but he hadn't wanted to sit in the forum on an unsecured line for any longer than necessary. 

I love you. Be safe. 

He repeated the words under his breath, unaware his lips were quirking up into a wry smile. 

Located Wing. 

But who had found him? And why would anyone care? 

* * *

Heero was bored. 

He'd spent an hour wandering through the entertainment multiplexes, then spent twenty credits for the dubious pleasure of another two hours in one of the theme parks. The only positive element in the waste of time was being surrounded by an array of sights, sounds, and smells that effectively drowned out the chance to think, let alone brood. 

The confusion of the night before had begun to finally fade when he took a random path and found himself in the midst of a circus setup. The previous night's ache returned twice as strong and he fled without paying attention to the landmarks. The result was that it took him fifty minutes to find his way to the hotel, a trip that he'd estimated would be only a fifteen minute walk. 

Hilde was waiting for him at the corner, her entire body radiating irritation. "I've been waiting long enough," she snapped. "Where the hell have you been?" 

"Elsewhere," he said, and shrugged. She pulled out the jacket from her bag and he slipped it on. "Ready?" 

It wasn't long before they were ensconced in the hotel bar and Hilde was already the center of attention. With her large blue eyes and beautifully disheveled hair, her legs encased in black leather and a fair showing of cleavage in a green velvet top, she was a striking figure. Heero watched her carefully, and amused himself with philosophical questions about aesthetics. 

After fifteen more minutes, the only answer he had achieved was the rest of the bar's patrons were convinced Hilde was an excellent example of an aesthetically pleasing package. Heero stared at his whiskey. So much for philosophy. 

Finally he made his move, feinting a hit to Hilde's cheek with a few hissed comments. Heero's skills didn't include improvising his lines but Hilde's open flirtation had made the job easy. The attack on her was enough to make two of the more drunken men defensive on her behalf. 

He soon found himself in a shoving competition with one of the men, while another man egged the first one on. Hilde was gone, the book in one hand as she headed towards the bar's phone in the back. By the time she returned, Heero had punched out the first man and turned on the second one. Over the second man's shoulder, Heero saw her wave as she headed into the hotel. The Wing Zero pilot continued to brawl. He was pleased to discover the corporate drones were drunk enough to completely miss the fact that the object of their desire had split. 

When security showed up, Heero launched himself at them. They knew a little more about fighting than the drunken louts still shouting for Heero's blood, and it took all of Heero's control to stretch out the fights as long as possible. 

The bar's clock said 3:00 standard time when he heard the first of the engines rolling to a stop outside the hotel's entrance. Pleased, he faked taking a hit, rolling to the side to prevent a true strike but going down anyway just as two more security men arrived. Two of them fell right into the ploy and grabbed Heero from where he kneeled on the floor, pretending to be dazed by the last punch. 

The door burst open and five bikers pushed through the door just as Heero was being dragged through the door to the hotel proper. As soon as the bikers saw the patch-covered jacket they exploded into action. A phalanx of security guards was entering the bar from the hotel, Trowa leading the charge. Heero grinned widely at him as the group passed, absently pleased with the other pilot's momentarily stunned reaction. 

Heero, meanwhile, shoved one of the security guards holding him and took off into the hotel lobby, aiming for the main door. He could see more bikers shoving the hotel's front doors open, and hollered that the hotel security was beating a biker six on one. He was rewarded with shouts of anger and nine more bikers pushed their way into the lobby. Two more paused to flip open cell phones, obviously calling for backup. 

Heero dropped the leather jacket over the prone body of an unconscious security man, and slipped outside. In the chaos, no one noticed a Japanese man strolling down the street away from the riot. 

* * *

It was almost four o'clock and Heero was still at the hotel. He'd decided impulsively to wait at the end of the block rather than head straight for the diner and backtrack to the ship from there. He didn't like being in the dark about the team's movements, but the girl had been remarkably close-lipped about what everyone else was doing. Heero was frustrated by the entire situation. He'd done his part, but he was unwilling to just leave the rest of them. He was still arguing with himself when movement at the hotel's service entrance caught his eye. 

It was two men in expensive dark suits, holding a third man between them. The third man was a little shorter, slender, and barely struggling. He seemed to be restrained in some way, his hands behind his back. The two men were pushing him towards a vehicle. Heero watched as the prisoner was turned and pushed into a waiting car. The long braid whipped around, glinting red in the colony's afternoon light. 

Duo. 

Heero swore fluently under his breath. The whole thing, ruined, because Duo was caught - again. Just like always, you idiot, Heero thought, his mind running through various plans and discarding them almost instantly. His best chance was probably going to be stopping the car somehow, if he was going to rescue Duo. 

Any worries about Duo's reaction were set aside as Heero instinctively fell back into his wartime patterns. A fellow pilot was in trouble, and was going to compromise the team. The car was backing out of the service area, coming down the alley towards the sidewalk, and Heero poised himself to leap. 

It was then that something large and hard hit him on the back of his head. Immediately Heero went down, out cold. 

* * *

"He's always been this stubborn?" 

"Yeah. Got a major complex." 

"Well, we were warned." 

Heero struggled towards awareness, slowly registering that he wasn't tied up, but instead was wrapped in a heavy cloth of some kind. The fabric pushed against his face, filling his nostrils with fibers. He coughed, and the voices around him grew quieter. 

"Think he's coming to." 

"Didn't take long," a deeper voice replied. Heero couldn't place the accent. It was thick, and rolling. 

"Hit him again?" Someone laughed. 

"Just shoot him." The new voice was higher-pitched, but had the same odd cadence as the others. 

Heero struggled, trying to get his bearings, and felt a needle stab his leg through the fabric. A second later he was fading back into darkness. 

* * *

The room was dark, and he finally realized what had woken him was the sound of the ship's engines purring as it dropped into deep space crawl. Groggy, he sat up and looked around. It took a few minutes before his eyes could focus well enough for him to realize he was lying on Trowa's bunk. The room was dark, the only light coming in a wide swath from the hallway through the open door. 

"What the hell," he managed to whisper. The light hurt his eyes, and he blinked rapidly to get the nausea under control. When he opened his eyes again, Trowa was towering over him with an amused expression. 

"Nice bump," Trowa commented dryly and handed him a bag of ice wrapped in a towel. 

"Hn." Heero's stomach grumbled as he took the towel and cautiously put it against the back of his head. Trowa raised an eyebrow, and Heero glared at him. "Sorry for using your bed," he added, letting the glare fade, feeling awkward. His mind was moving slowly through his memories, trying to fit together the disjointed images. 

"If you're able to keep down dinner, it's here," Trowa said. 

"Hn." The photographer put down the ice and stood up, one hand on the upper bunk to keep his bearings. "We're already..." He let his words trail off as he focused on the porthole over Trowa's bed, and the darkness of space beyond. 

"Yeah," Trowa replied. 

The last piece fell into place and Heero spun, his eyes deepening into a dark blue with the panic. At the last second he managed to keep his cover. "Du―Day! I've got to―" 

"Got to, nothing," Trowa said, pushing gently at Heero's shoulder until the shorter man sat back down. "Don't know how you made it to the ship in your condition. You've been out for two hours." 

"Day," Heero protested, his stomach rumbling again as he smelled the food on the tray. This time it was a Mexican dish, with Spanish rice on the side. Some part of his brain registered the continuing international theme. 

"What about him," Trowa said. His tone was amiable. "I've got to head back to the co-pilot's seat." 

"We've got to go after him," Heero said. Anger was starting to coil in his belly, and he glared at the taller man. 

"Why?" 

"Because." Heero frowned, unable to come up with a good reason for a heartbeat. "Because he'd do the same for me," he whispered to himself. 

"You think that?" A third voice called out, and Heero glanced towards it. Duo was leaning against the open doorjamb, his arms crossed as he stared towards the cockpit. The thief shrugged and walked away, his voice floating down the hallway. "You really _are_ an idiot." 

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, own a whole bunch of Chinese calligraphy workbooks that I haven't cracked all summer. Bad me. 

Hey, I've been sporked! 

Nlp: You're right. I never get the impression, while watching the anime, that Heero necessarily doesn't have emotions – it's more that he seems to have issues expressing those issues, specifically around other people. He's actually pretty passionate; he's just also an introvert, and a bit insecure as well, for various reasons. So the real struggle here is to put him in places where he's starting to demonstrate his feelings, without going overboard. 

Kiya Sama: I'm not sure what you mean – I've been trying to put it that Heero's forcing himself back into 'mission mode,' and that it's not necessarily his preferred mode any longer. That does make him almost more Duo-like, in some ways, existing in two places at once: the more adult, expressive if still very shy person, and the automaton that's willing to set aside personal interaction if necessary to achieve success. But believe me, you have first dibs on smacking me if it turns into a sap fest. Yegawdz, I hope not! 

Turtlefire: I haven't written a lemon in _years_. I am probably out of practice. *cough* I think I shall have to work my way up to it, which is fine since I don't believe anyone as damaged as Heero and Duo is going to automatically fall right into bed without a few stumbles along the way. That may make for a longer story, but if you don't mind the delay... Otherwise, glad you like! 


	9. drive along the pipeline

**28 Jan 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

And they drive along the pipeline  
They tango til they're sore  
They take apart their nightmares  
And they leave them by the door  
― Tom Waits 

The trip back was uneventful. 

Which translated, in Heero's mind, to positively, mind-numbingly, _boring_. He sighed and rolled over on his stomach. Five years ago he would've given significant body parts and a few years off his insignificant life to have peace and quiet when forced to interact with the other Gundam pilots. Now he was lying on a top bunk in a fast ship, listening to the shouts and crashes that indicated Trowa was kicking Duo's ass on yet another video game. 

It was a lonely way to pass sixteen hours. 

* * *

The ship's engines were reversing for landing in L2's loading station when Hilde waltzed into the bunkroom without knocking. Heero rolled over and looked down at her. 

"We'll be out of here in fifteen," she announced. She was quiet for a moment, chewing on her lower lip. "We've voted. If you're up for it, we've got no problem with you staying on with us." 

Heero grunted in surprise, then swung his legs over the bunk's edge, resting his chin on his fist as he stared at her. He wondered just how democratic the decision was, but figured it might have been two against one anyway. He sighed, long and deep, and rubbed his forehead. 

"Still got a headache?" Her voice was sympathetic. 

"A little," he replied. "I was wondering... how did I get back?" 

"How badly were you hit, anyway?" Hilde stepped up on Trowa's bunk and hauled herself up to sit next to Heero. The girl gave him a rueful look. "I hate being short." 

"I can relate." 

"You're like five-ten. That's a half-foot taller than me." 

"I wasn't always this tall." 

She laughed, a bright sound, and Heero gave her a crooked smile. 

"I never thought you'd be the joking kind," she told him, then grew quiet. "Day found you. We'd about given up on you, and he went back to check one more time, and there you were." 

"Great," he grumbled under his breath. 

"Hey," she said, with a smile. "You pulled a neat trick back there. Didn't think you had it in you. Trey's still in shock. I think he had another facial expression for a second there." 

Heero raised his eyebrows. "That's some comfort, I suppose." 

"Another joke?" Hilde shook her head. "You should get hit on the head more often." 

He shrugged nonchalantly, some part of his brain beginning to understand what Duo had always seen in Hilde. She could roll with the punches, and keep grinning, much like Duo. 

The engines growled from beneath the floor, and there was the inevitable thump as the loading station's tug locked onto the ship. The ship jolted, the engine sound faded, and they were being pulled into the docking bay. Hilde leapt down from the bunk, looking up once more at Heero. 

"We'll ship out in three days, eight in the morning standard time. You're welcome to sleep here in the meantime, or stay elsewhere if you need the space. Your time's your own until then." 

Heero wasn't sure what he'd decide. The reception so far had been less than enthusiastic, but he'd certainly felt more alive yesterday than he had in awhile. Photography put something in his life, but it couldn't replace what he'd been missing. He wasn't sure he'd get it from working with Hilde and the two ex-pilots, but it felt like he was on the right track. 

He sighed and gave Hilde a rueful smile. "I'll be back, I think." 

"Good," she said as she left. 

* * *

The first thing he did was check the cell phone. It was fully recharged; a relief considering it'd died just before the big job, but no messages. Curious, he dialed Bernie's line as he waved down a taxi. 

"Yuy?" 

"Yeah." Heero realized he was relieved to hear Bernie's voice. It was a reminder of the fact that he had a normal life waiting for him back on L1. "Sorry... I've been out of touch." 

"No problem," Bernie replied cheerfully. "You take as long as you want." 

There was a long pause as Heero digested that comment. Finally he resorted to the best he could manage as a reaction. "What?" 

"Mr. Winner explained everything to me. And your friend Mr. Chang has been by to check on your apartment, and to set up automatic payments for your rent and utilities while you're away." 

"What?" Heero stared at the stopped taxi. The driver honked at him, annoyed. The perplexed man climbed into the backseat and gave the driver the location of Pop's diner before returning his attention to the conversation. "Bernie, what are you talking about?" 

"Mr. Chang has taken care of your expenses while you're working for him," Bernie repeated slowly. 

"What?" 

"Look, are you okay?" Bernie's tone turned solicitous. "Have you been hit on the head recently?" 

Heero struggled to gather his wits. "No," he finally choked out. "I'm fine. Just... do whatever. I don't know how soon I'll be back, but I'll try to check in." 

"You do that," Bernie said. "Take care of yourself, kid. Don't make me worry." 

"Shut up," Heero growled, and cut the connection. 

More questions. 

* * *

Heero checked in first at Pops' bar. The boss was out, but the bartender figured he'd be back the next day. Frustrated, Heero wandered through L2's mediocre shopping district and tried to ignore the questions pounding at his head. He found a liquor store that sold a decent whiskey, checked into a hotel, took a long shower, and got stinking drunk. It at least beat thinking. 

The next day he was back at the bar at noon, his headache retreating once he choked down a late breakfast and finished off a beer. The bartender was pretty sure Pops would be by eventually. 

This sucks, Heero griped silently. Am I supposed to just sit here and do nothing all day? He ran his tongue over his teeth and wished he'd taken a second shower before he left the hotel. The bar's stink of day-old cigarette smoke was repulsive. He could feel it sinking into his pores. 

Two more beers and an hour later, a cheerful voice spoke from just over his left shoulder. "You look familiar," it said, and a stringy green ponytail came into view. 

Heero didn't say anything, tensed. He had to consciously relax his hold on the bottle, as someone sat down beside him. 

"Enny." The girl re-introduced herself. "Yeah, I remember you," she said as she peered at him closely. "Man, you got a bruiser there." She reached out her hand and Heero jerked his head back with a hiss. Enny yanked her hand back and grinned. "Mood hasn't improved much, has it." 

The man made a noncommittal sound and stared at his beer, wishing for some expensive whiskey. He thought of the morning's hangover and decided the beer would suffice. 

"So you enjoying the work?" 

He shot her a baleful look. 

"Oh, come on." She chuckled and waved to the bartender, who nodded. "You're practically famous, getting _invited_ back to work with the crazies." 

"What are you talking about?" His headache was starting to return, and he chugged the last of his beer. 

"Don't play stupid with me," Enny replied, pointing a finger at him in mock disapproval. "I've been playing it a lot longer than you, and I'm better at it." The bartender placed two beers on the table, and the girl slid one across to Heero before she spoke again. "Gossip travels fast in this Sector. The crazies liked your style." 

He raised a single eyebrow. 

"You turned them down?" Enny shook her head. "Bummer. Now we've got to find someone else just as bonkers as those guys." 

"Isn't there somewhere else you could be sitting?" The glare wasn't working on her. He really wasn't in the mood for conversation. He was in the mood to kill something, actually. 

"Sure," she said, smirking. "But you're more fun to pester." 

"Hn." 

"Why am I getting the feeling that you didn't like the crazies half as much as they seemed to like you?" 

"They don't like me," he told the girl sullenly. "They didn't even let..." He looked away, taking a swig of his beer and grimacing at the dull flavor. "Never mind." 

"Hey, this is Enny. You can talk to me. Everyone else does, but I never talk about what I hear." 

"Seems to me that's all you've done is report what you've heard." 

"Gossip isn't told in confidence." 

Heero stared at the peeling label on the beer bottle. Maybe he could use one of the empty ones to hit her over the head. Unexpectedly his lips twitched as an amusing thought occurred to him. She noticed immediately. 

"What's so funny?" Her tone wasn't defensive, but sweetly curious. It was odd, coming from a girl with green hair and orange-pink lipstick. 

"Just... you remind me of someone." He shrugged. "More like... remind me of how someone used to be." 

"Really." Enny's face was a little sad. "You hated her, too?" 

"No." Heero paused, absently wondering why he was bothering to talk, and gave up. "I was in love with her." 

"Oh." 

"Yeah." He glanced over at her, his lips twitching in a half-smile. "Not implying anything about you, of course." 

"Of course." 

There was a long pause, and the two young people drank in silence. The diner was slowly filling up with the lunch crowd. Rough construction workers, a few badly dressed girls, and five or six thugs that were probably a local crew working for Pops. The girl shifted next to Heero, and he glanced over at her. 

"You miss her?" Enny was looking off across the bar. 

He thought about that for a minute. "Used to. But even back then... not as much as I thought I would." 

"And that hurts even more, doesn't it," she replied quietly. 

He glowered at her, purely out of habit. "You always this perceptive?" 

Enny snorted. "You think I got to where I am without any people skills? I'm a _pimp_, man, it's my job to suss out folks. Like the crazies, for instance." She jerked her head towards the door, and Heero's gaze immediately followed her gesture. 

Duo had just walked in. 

Heero wavered between crawling under the table, glaring at Duo, or ignoring him completely. He settled for ignoring Deathscythe's pilot, only vaguely registering that Hilde was at Duo's side. The couple made their way to another table, near the back by the bar. 

"Why do you call them that?" He kept his tone neutral. 

"You can't lose three muscles and be sane," she explained matter-of-factly. "The first one never made it back in time after a job, and they left without him. Didn't even bother looking, I heard. He's never shown up. The second died from severe injuries when he took on sixteen men at once, trying to be the diversion factor from hell. And the third went drinking with them after a job and smashed up his bike on the way home. EMT crews had to scrape him off the sidewalk." 

Heero winced slightly at the visual, and Enny grinned. 

"You last three jobs, you'll break their jinx," she added. "That's the most anyone's managed with them." 

"Thanks for the tip," he said dryly. His gaze darted to the back of the bar and away again, finally coming to rest on Enny's large brown eyes. Heero felt his skin crawl. He'd been almost certain Duo had been watching him. He shook off the feeling. 

Enny was about to say something when the chair across from Heero was yanked away from the table and someone fell into it. The motion was abrupt, and Heero's instincts were immediately on guard. It took only a heartbeat for him to remember the face: Jeet. 

An _angry_ Jeet. 

"Hey," Enny said, a calm greeting. "What's going on?" 

"I remember you," the youth said, his blue hair standing a little on end. "You really did move in on my turf, asshole." 

"What?" Heero raised both eyebrows, confused, and glanced at Enny. The girl shrugged. 

"Jeet, your mouth is moving and sound's coming out of it. This is never good." 

The boy shot her an irritated look and she quirked a smile at him. He settled back, a little less on attack, and his expression resolved itself into a pout. 

"I've lost one of my best customers because of that jerk," he told Enny as though Heero wasn't sitting there. "You know he's with the crazies now?" 

"I heard," she replied blandly. "What about it?" 

"He's not just muscle," Jeet retorted. "He's gotta be doing more on the side." 

Heero finally registered the implications. Jeet looked up to see the other man's icy glare, and shrunk back a little in his seat with a defensive frown. 

"Well, it's true," the boy whined. Heero, annoyed, turned his head away. 

"Jeet," Enny announced. "Shut up. Go find someone else, then." 

"Fine, but if you don't get as big a cut today it's cause Day won't play. And he always tipped great, too," Jeet added as he got up from his seat. "Asshole," he muttered as he stood over the table. "Fucker moving in on my turf." 

"Get over it," the girl said, her voice a little louder. "If you're not wanted, cope." 

Jeet snarled something inaudible and stalked off towards the bar. Enny watched him go, and sighed. 

"Sorry about that," she said softly. 

Heero shrugged noncommittally, but his mind was spinning. Duo was one of Jeet's... Then he remembered. The kid had asked the biker about Day, and had said... That meant the biker was... Heero's face flushed. Enny giggled beside him, and he scowled. 

"You just figure it out? Man, you're slow," she said, rolling her eyes. 

"Shut up." 

"Not gonna happen." The girl waved to the bartender again. "Two more, Terry!" 

"This is not my week." Heero lifted his beer, noted it was empty, and set it back down again. "This is not my month." 

"It bother you?" 

"What?" The question wasn't what he'd expected, and he frowned at Enny, trying to figure out what she was talking about. 

"That your teammate swings both ways." She pursed her lips. "Well, and the other crazy digs only guys." 

Heero shrugged. "None of my business." 

"Would you want it to be?" The question was low, and soft, and pitched to reach only his ears. 

Heero glared at her. 

"Thought so," she said, and chuckled. 

* * *

Heero had switched to ginger ale after the last beer, but Enny had remained at his side. On some secret level he was enjoying himself, and fought to stay expressionless rather than let anyone realize he was starting to relax. He was finding it tougher than he'd expected. Enny was a charming talker equal to Duo, and Heero eventually found himself giving her little crooked smiles as she regaled him with gossip about everyone in the bar. 

Everyone except the crazies, that is. 

When he asked, she shook her head. "I told you all I can," she said quietly. "They keep to themselves, take the riskiest jobs, show up for a day or two and then they're gone. Sometimes for a few days, once or twice for a few weeks." Enny leaned forward, a conspiratorial gesture, and gave an almost imperceptible flick of her eyes towards Duo and Hilde, still at the back of the bar. "And they never, ever come by here and just hang out." 

Heero grunted, studiously avoiding looking in that direction. 

Over the past hour, he'd seen people gravitating towards the table where Duo and Hilde sat, and surreptitiously watched as Pops' other employees chatted up the couple and then moved on. No one sat down, but Duo apparently hadn't lost his ability to attract instant friends. At a few points he noticed Duo's and Hilde's heads close together, their body language indicating a quiet argument, or at least an intent discussion. He found himself wishing he really were a listening device, to know what they were talking about. 

Probably him, he thought morosely. Duo was probably coming up with a hundred ways to kill him and a thousand ways to hide his body. For the fiftieth time since the couple had walked in, the Wing Zero pilot contemplated walking out of the bar and not looking back. 

"Where'd you go?" Enny nudged him. 

He shrugged, and turned back to her. The bar's low light softened her face, but he'd figured out she was a few years older than him and not the teenager he'd originally assumed. Her face was chiseled, the bones showing high and fine in her cheek and jaw, lacking the last baby fat of late adolescence. There was a fine vertical line between her eyebrows. It reminded him of Relena, and he smiled ruefully at the comparison: the crown princess of Sanc versus an L2 street pimp. 

Any answer he might've given was interrupted by someone standing over their table. He looked up to see Pops grinning widely. 

"Getting settled already," Pops said. "Enny, you do get around." 

"Just making friendly," she replied with a cheeky grin. Heero realized just how close they'd been sitting, and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 

"Hito, right?" Pops nodded at Heero's response, and jerked his head towards the back of the bar. "We've got some catching up to do." 

With a nod to Enny, Heero dropped a handful of credits on the table and followed Pops to the back office. 

* * *

"So tell me about your little trip." 

"Which part?" Heero wondered whether Pops had access to the records from the bugs. "On ship, off ship, or the job itself?" 

"Off ship," Pops replied evenly. "I've got the on-ship covered." 

Yeah, you do, Heero thought. "Then you're aware the reception was less than enthusiastic." 

"I heard," Pops said with a chuckle. He dug a cigarette pack out of his breast pocket. This time he didn't offer one to Heero, but just lit it. The old man took a long drag before exhaling slowly as he watched the photographer. "Off ship? Spend any time with those guys?" 

"Not really." Heero shrugged. "An hour in a diner, going over plans for the mission." 

"Like what?" 

Heero was surprised, and took a minute to think before answering. "Hel... staked out the hotel for a day, and had maps of the local area as well. She gave it all to Day." 

"And?" 

"That's all I saw. He took it and left. The day of the job he was up and gone before I woke up. Hel assisted me in the diversion, but left shortly after it'd begun." 

"Left?" Pops pulled on the cigarette. The cherry glowed red and long in the small office. "You mean she abandoned you after agreeing to help?" 

"No," Heero answered slowly. "She had some task related to the job. I don't know what it was. She left to do that once I had the situation under control." 

"Out of control, you mean," the man answered with a dry smile. The smile grew wider when a smug look darted across Heero's face. "Rumor says the point of this one was to send a message. Seventeen rioting bikers in a downtown corporate hotel sure sends a message, alright." He chuckled. 

"Rumor says," Heero repeated. "I thought the team was working at your command." 

"Nope," Pops replied, unruffled by Heero's question. "I just relay what you tell me. The team's answering to the powers on high, and I'm not one of them." 

"Ah," the photographer said. "Anything else?" 

"Always got questions, but I doubt you have answers for those, yet," the man replied. 

Join the club, Heero thought sullenly. 

* * *

Enny was sitting at the same table when Heero returned. She'd propped her booted feet up on the opposite chair and was watching the bar with a lazy smile. When she saw Heero, she waved him over, and he took back his chair with a nod. 

"That was fast." 

"I didn't have much to say." 

She laughed, a full-throated sound, and clapped Heero on the shoulder. "Yeah, I'd bet. Getting three sentences from you is like pounding gasoline from pavement. It can be done, but getting there is hard work!" 

Heero rolled his eyes, shot a look at Enny, and ducked his head as his lips twitched into a smile. She caught the expression and grinned widely. 

"At least you're not completely stone-face," she told him. 

"I'm just not much for talking," he said. 

"Had me fooled." She smiled as the bartender brought over a beer for her and a ginger ale for Heero. "Good thing you're back, though. Didn't think I could take much more." 

"More of what?" Heero raised his eyebrows over the edge of his glass. 

"The tension, man, the tension," she retorted, her brown eyes wide. "The _sexual_ tension," she added, leering. 

Heero started to glare, then gave her a helpless look as her words filtered in. 

"You left, and shit!" She waved her hand as though fanning herself. "Could've lit fires off the heat radiating from the back table. Not that it wasn't strong before, but _man_... the looks I was getting." 

"You don't look that upset." Heero regarded her teasing smile carefully. 

"You're a good-looking man, and I'm one step up from a whore. You think I'm gonna complain if people think you're hanging with me?" She canted her head at him, then turned away to take a long drink from her beer. 

"Hn." Heero stared at his ginger ale and tried to ignore that Duo was now talking animatedly to two large guys standing over his table. He saw a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye. "Jeet's still here?" 

"Kid's on break. He'll be gone in another fifteen minutes." She shrugged. 

The bit of blue was definitely at the back table. Heero tried to focus on the ice in his glass while allowing his peripheral vision to pick up details. Enny noticed the change in intensity and nudged him again with her elbow. When he didn't react, she leaned close and whispered into his ear. 

"Looks like Jeet's trying again," she reported. 

Heero started, and she rewarded him with a secretive smile. 

"It appears that Jeet's powers of persuasion are better than I thought." Her lips were very close to Heero's ear, and he shivered despite himself, fighting to keep his expression neutral as he watched condensation drip down the glass. A moment passed and she continued her reports. "Day's getting up... Jeet's saying something... Hel's nodding, now... oh, don't look now. Day and Jeet are standing _awfully_ close," she crowed softly. 

"They're coming this way," she murmured. "Jeet's draped across Day..." When Heero jumped slightly, she pulled away, her eyes wide in mock innocence. 

"Spare me the details," he growled. 

"Then I'll jump to the real curiosity," Enny replied mildly. "Day's grinning but his body language is tense." The girl tapped a finger against her lower lip as she ran her gaze across the room, nonchalantly studying Day as he stopped to chat up a nearby table. 

"Why are you telling me this?" Heero shifted, glaring harder at the innocent glass. His fists were clenched in his lap. 

"Because no matter how much you pretend otherwise, you really want to know." 

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, own a full set of Ellis Peter's Cadfael series. I highly recommend it, if you're ever up for some really well-written detective stories set in a Medieval monastery in England during the war between King Stephen and the Empress Maud, just after the second Crusade, I think. Cadfael kicks ass. 

Crimson: Sorry... when I get on a roll, it can be hard to keep up, but I still like getting reviews. You're not the first to point out that Heero is rapidly going downhill when it comes to trying to handle a situation with a whole bunch of variables and no solid information. Unfortunately, it appears this chapter did nothing more than worsen the situation... but I'm hoping we can get Duo to behave nicely for a few chapters and see if we can't reach a resolution. Maybe I'll lock them both in a room together, throw in a piece of raw meat, and see who gets out alive. Right now I'd say it's even odds... 

Lainwyn: Ah, my empathy is all yours. I actually wrote Creek while dealing with the last three weeks of a grad-level statistics class. (Which, incidentally, I aced, although I'm still not sure how.) I've tried hard to treat Relena fairly. She's as easy to screw up as Quatre, because both seem so simple at first glance. Quatre as the effeminate touchy-feely type; Relena as the obsessed stalker. But I was 15 once, too (but only once, thank the PTB) and I recall what it's like to be infatuated. I don't think Relena was really in love with Heero as much as she was fascinated and inspired. The whole anime is about connections, and the changes in each person as a result of their interaction, hence the Relena/Heero pacifist/warrior setup. Those two are as much opposites as Heero and Duo, after all. *sigh* In the meantime, this stupid story looks like it's going to be as long as Creek (if not longer) before it's finally wrapped up. There's just so much to tell... 

Erinamation-limited2-nothing: I'll take that to mean you like it... Good! ;-) 


	10. count the holes they leave

**28 Jan 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

And now, each night I count the stars, and each   
night I get the same number. And when they will   
not come to be counted, I count the holes they leave.  
― Imamu Amiri Baraka 

Heero left about fifteen minutes after Duo, following Enny's directions to the nearest 'net café. It was nearly four o'clock standard time; the entire crew would be online. He settled into an open terminal, pre-paid his time, logged in, and was met with the yellow smiley-face. 

"Wing here. What news?" The smiley-face was promptly replaced with the dove's wing. 

"Five messages decoded." Pinky's avatar waved its pigtails at him. 

"First one: L3 Sector 1 October," Snake typed, getting down to business. "That file was uploaded in September." 

"Two months ago." 

"Right." Snake continued. "Second one: Romchip no go." 

"That one was from four weeks ago," Rat explained. 

"Third one: Use Zurich." Snake's avatar wiggled. "No, I don't know what it means. It's been bugging me. Oh, and it's from five months ago." 

"Zurich?" Heero thought about that for a second. "If you want an impenetrable bank account, you go to Switzerland." A smile tugged at the edge of his mouth, along with a small ache in his chest. Quatre had told him that, years ago, in some random moment he couldn't place now. 

"Or you go there to ski, I think," Pinky added. 

"You ski?" Rat asked. 

"No freakin' way. I'm a hacker, not an idiot who'd strap two pieces of plastic on my feet and throw myself down a mountain," Pinky retorted. 

"No, you're an idiot hacker," Snake said. 

"What's the next message?" Heero asked, getting them back on task. He still wasn't comfortable logging in from an anonymous station. He didn't have time for chatting. 

"Wing!" Hand's avatar appeared in the window, and almost instantaneously sent a private message. Heero regarded the greeting with long-suffering patience; Mike had been waiting for nearly a week with his question about Deathscythe's cloaking mechanism. Dutifully Heero opened the new window and started typing, his attention divided to keep an eye on the main forum. 

"Fourth message: No interference," Snake was saying. "That message's from two months ago." 

"Last message is the strangest," Rat jumped in. "It says: Starting here. Dated five weeks ago." 

"What?" Heero paused in his mechanical explanation to Hand, and switched to the main window. "Any idea of a server origin for the uploading?" 

"No. Sorry." The whiskers drooped on Rat's avatar. 

"It's still something. Some damn fine hacking you guys have done," Heero told the group. "Hold on." 

"You finally answering Mike's stupid cloaking question?" Snake asked. 

"Yeah." Heero finished up in the private window, and took an extra minute to read over the five additional coded comments. Zurich. Something about that tugged at his memory, and he wasn't sure what it was. He ran through a quick mental list of possible tactics, and decided to follow his preliminary hunches. 

"Here's the next set of missions," Heero announced. The room's traffic came to a complete halt as the hackers awaited their new assignments. "First, find out the source of payment for an apartment's utilities on L1," the photographer told the group. 

"Hunh?" Mike asked. 

"The address is L1, Sector 5, 12093 15th Street, apartment 27. Utilities for the apartment are auto-paid by transfer. It may be nothing, but I'd like to find out where the money's coming from." 

"I'll do that," Pinky volunteered. 

"I'll help," another avatar offered. It was an alligator wearing a top hat. 

"Allie's with me," Pinky said. 

"Okay. Next, go back through the two accounts you found for Deathscythe's pilot and see if any transfers have occurred." 

"But that guy's scary," Mike protested. 

"Go through the bank's side of the equation," Heero replied swiftly, before the Hand avatar started panicking. The kid was still recovering his nerve after going up against Duo's hacking skills. "Find any transfers, where from, where to, and when." 

"Alright," Mike typed. "Snappy and I can do that." 

A blue star avatar waved one of its points. Snappy didn't say much in the forum, but he and Mike worked together often. 

"What are you thinking?" Rat asked. 

"I'm wondering if there's money traveling between three accounts – Deathscythe, Zurich, and the public utilities on L1." Heero wasn't sure Quatre would be that sloppy, but there was also the chance that Quatre's underlings wouldn't expect a group of maniac hackers to go through the trouble of linking the accounts. 

"I'm also not sure anyone on the listening end of the track bots has a way to do an upload. It's trickier," Heero explained. 

"That Deathscythe guy could do it," Mike pointed out. "Hell, that asswipe could do it in his sleep." 

"No disrespecting elite hackers," Rat barked, and the Hand avatar was summarily booted from the forum list. A second later Mike was back, and giving the room the finger. Rat kicked Mike a second time. 

Business as usual, Heero thought with a wry smile. 

"Especially an elite hacker that could kick your ass blindfolded with one hand tied behind his back," Pinky pointed out once the Hand avatar had returned and settled back down. 

"Pink freak's got a point," Snake added. The avatar's tail wiggled. 

"Anything else?" Rat asked. 

"Find me everything you can about portable romchips." 

"I'll do that," Snake said. "Can I break the information servers on my way out?" 

"Up to you." Heero grinned dryly at the monitor. "Last, uploading and downloading track bots would put a larger strain on the server relay than just transferring information in the usual traffic. Pick any of those server relays, get a log, and get that information on when the track bots were accessed. If you can, get an origin for the upload as well." 

"Tall order," Rat observed. "I'll take that one." 

"I'll help review the log if you get it," another avatar said: a red rose. Rosie wasn't around much, but he was reputed to have skills equal with Rat's. 

"I'll be leaving L2 tomorrow morning," Heero said, pleased with the team's responses. "That's the word right now, at least." 

It was almost like wartime with the pilots: a team, each person capable, willing, and reliable. Even Mike, the youngest and most inexperienced of the group, was ready to put his new hardboard back on the line for the mission. The dark-haired man paused, his fingers over the keyboard, then shook his head. This time, he wasn't putting anyone's life on the line. At least, he hoped not. 

Damn, Heero thought, I hadn't realized just how much I'd missed this. 

"How soon will you be back around? What's our deadline?" Pinky asked. 

"Don't know," Heero admitted. "I'm playing this end completely by ear, but I'll check in as soon as I can." He paused again, reviewing the options carefully before typing his next lines. "If two weeks pass and you haven't heard from me, contact Wufei Chang at Preventers headquarters. Tell them you're bringing information about Wing Zero." 

"Preventers," Pinky said. Heero could almost hear the hacker whistle. Some of the hackers working for Preventers could make Duo look like an amateur. 

"Wufei Chang," Rat prompted. "Who's he?" 

"Someone I trust implicitly," the pilot replied. "But contact him only if it's been two weeks since the last date I was in the forum." 

"If something goes south, that's a lot of lead time," Mike warned. 

"Deal with it," Heero snapped, then thought better of it. His wing avatar waved at the Hand to soften the comment. "Gotta clear the lines. I'll stop by in two or three days, maybe sooner." 

"We'll have something by then," Pinky assured him. 

A second later Heero was out of the forum and the screen had gone blank. He wiped the cache and stood up, rolling his neck and listening to the joints pop. He smirked, missing his laptop. Just as quickly he realized he missed a lot of things: the pictures on his mantel, his shoji screens, his laundry lines hung with drying prints. His private space. 

Heero sighed and stuck his hand in his jacket pockets as he left the café, blinking in surprise as he pulled out the palm-sized digital camera. Duo had wiped the images after he'd downloaded them, and the memory had room again for several hundred pictures. 

Idly he twiddled with the lens cap, staring around him on the busy L2 streets. The camera's ability to reassure him was lessened by the fact that the digital system weighed an eighth of his own camera, had no shutter to speak of, and wouldn't twirl under his fingers when the roll was rewinding. But it was better than nothing, and he badly needed the serenity he'd always gained from taking pictures. 

* * *

The light frustrated Heero. 

Of all the things important to a photographer, light is always paramount. The observation skills he'd learned as an assassin required being fast, responsive, and willing to act on visual impressions without second thought. His antique camera had required that he slow the process. That camera simply couldn't keep up with his speed, due to the slow shutter and the need to manually wind the film. It had been valuable, though, to force him to be aware of each step in the process, to register and measure each observation before acting on it. 

Now he could simply hold down the button and almost feel the pictures flickering into the memory board. The digital system was light-speed compared to his usual camera, and it startled him but at the same time freed him. Rather than measure each shot with the awareness that celluloid was expensive and rare, he could catch the picture and worry later about whether it had caught what he'd seen. 

But the light was still a problem. 

L2's systems were archaic; decrepit compared to L1, but neither could ever duplicate earth's varying light. In Paris the light was a pale blue; in the Sudan it was a buttery yellow. Tokyo's light was a soft gray, while in Los Angeles the light flooding the city was nearly orange in its intensity. To an untrained eye, one source of light is much like the next; to a photographer light is the very basis of every image. 

And the light on L2, Heero grumbled, sucked royally. 

He'd started with buildings, studying the geometry, the angles of shadow and highlight. It was almost like being in Photography 101 again, with a simple assignment to observe shape and meaning rather than the actual presence of the object. It forced one to see the abstract, to capture what is without being aware of the object's overall shape. 

Eventually Heero began including people in the pictures, fast captures, in the midst of movement. Pushing the speed down a little saturated the pictures and compensated for the softer light. He continued walking, moving quickly enough with the camera that he'd stopped checking the view screen. He simply held up the camera and hit the button, like shooting a gun without checking the sights. 

His breathing calmed, and he started observing the questions in his head as though they were also objects, which no longer needed connection to a greater whole. Like the buildings and people, perhaps they, too, would resolve into something new without a need for placement or origin. 

Quatre, Wufei, and Relena had become a trio of close friends. But neither of the other pilots had called to dissuade him; Relena had. And she'd merely warned him about doing damage to the situation. If Quatre and Wufei were somehow aware of Duo's and Trowa's actions – and were even possibly supporting them – then perhaps Relena's comments were related solely to the emotional impact of Heero's reintroduction into their lives. 

_It's your choice. But don't come back unless you're going to stay. None of us can take losing you again. _

The photographer paused, tucked the camera away, and bought himself a cup of coffee. Settling himself on a low concrete wall, he reviewed the pictures so far. Many he deleted as out of focus, badly composed, or too low contrast. Slowly he began to see movement in the portraits he'd caught, the same liveliness he'd seen in Quatre's image of Trowa. He'd not had time, when pointing and clicking, to think about what he'd seen of the person. He'd simply let them be, and caught what was there. 

He finished his coffee and started walking again. This time he focused on people on the street, but threw away the idea of slowing down long enough to ask permission. Heero simply flowed through the late afternoon crowds, catching people's pictures on the fly. His mind moved through the week's questions, and between the two, shapes were coming into focus. 

Romchips exchange information between the teams and the bosses. 

If there were no one to claim responsibility for the order, the team would be useless if caught. There was no one they could specifically point to as the one who told them what to do. The real boss was protected, even if the team knew every thug and mercenary in the colonies. 

Hilde was leading the crazies. 

It was clear that Duo and Trowa controlled the actual jobs much more than Hilde, even if they made a point of appearing to answer to her commands. The dynamics he'd observed at the diner had definitely not included Hilde telling Duo what to do. As a matter of fact, she'd acted as though she were working for Deathscythe's pilot. 

Heero suspected this was the kind of detail Pops was hoping for, but something in him had preferred to keep that information to himself. For some reason it was paramount that Hilde appear to be in charge. He wasn't sure why, but he was willing to wait and see if an explanation showed up. 

The colony's light was fading, and Heero pushed the speed down to the longest he could manage without camera shake. After a thought, he flipped through the controls, overriding the camera's control to make the depth of field as minimal as possible. Between the two, he'd have another hour before the fading light made pictures completely impossible. In the meantime he wandered towards the shopping district, curious as to the impact neon signs would have on the color levels. 

Four years of photography, and he'd never moved away from black and white imagery. It often amused him, that people classified that kind of imagery as black and white when it really was only shades of gray, deepest to lightest. The eye clarified the differences purely from contrast. He'd never risked color. 

Heero paused on the sidewalk, nearly getting barreled over by several people behind him. His eyes were focused on nothing in particular as he repeated that last random thought. 

He'd never risked color. 

Stupidly he stared at the camera in his hands. What had he been afraid of, anyway? Or was it something about the world, now that peace was achieved? During the war, life was blood crimson, smoke black, earth blue, star silver. A year of the world shifting and moving as OZ, Romafeller, the Alliance, and White Fang changed their politics daily, twisting around the Gundam pilots. The war was a brilliant, terrifying, magnificent kaleidoscope. He'd longed for peace, the quiet stillness of knowing everything he could do, had been done. He'd wanted the spinning colors to settle down into understandable patterns. 

The world had that peace now, and he'd duplicated it in the imagery he created: simple, pure images where everything could be reduced to black, white, and shades of gray. He wondered about that, and started walking again, fiddling with the camera's lens cap as he picked up his pace back to fall in with the after-work shopping crowd. 

He remembered the first time he'd realized just how different he was from Duo. They'd been on a shuttle, Heero recalled, and Duo had said something about when the war was over, he would go back to space. Duo had spoken with the affection one reserves for returning home, and Heero had caught the longing. It wasn't anything he could identify, at the time, having never had much of a place he could identify as being worth the effort of returning to – let alone keeping in his mind as a goal. He'd had no goal, other than to bring peace. What came afterwards simply hadn't occurred to him. But Duo... to Duo, hoping for what could come afterwards was the only thing that gave him purpose. 

Heero shook off the thoughts and let his mind fall back into the trance state of letting the crowds move around him as he walked. A girl was standing by a shop window as he passed, and he reflexively lifted the camera, holding it one-handed at shoulder-height as he walked past. She'd turned at his approach, and her eyes were large, blue and surprised, but crinkled in that way of a smile that's not yet reached the mouth. 

He took the picture and kept walking, tossing her a half-smile in apology as he continued without a word. That expression reminded him of Relena, again, and he smiled. It felt like meeting up with an old friend in a crowd and recognizing humanity. 

Sighing, he noted the light was fading even more and he was putting the brightly lit shopping sector behind him with long strides. Shoving the camera back in his pocket, he registered his location and estimated the direction of L2's docking station. The deep space chill was kicking in as the colony's heaters slowed down for the false night, and he shrugged the old leather jacket closer as he walked. 

Heero wondered if what he'd told Enny was true. He'd loved Relena, but he wasn't sure if it was love so much as strong admiration. She'd always provoked a strange tug in his soul, as though she were something he had to fight desperately to protect, even before he'd ever stopped to ask why. Sometimes he wondered if it might have made any difference who stood in her place. Perhaps, so long as there was someone, he would've fought just as hard. 

The thought gave him pause. 

He remembered his first kiss. He'd gone to the Libra, partly to face down Milliardo, partly because Duo relayed word that Relena was there. He'd been drawn to her flame, and it didn't occur to him to consider his reasons. He simply had to go, and there she was. 

She'd insisted binding the wound on his arm before she'd agree to put on the suit he'd found for her in the locker room. The war was immediate, persistent, but it was gone the second she'd put her hands on his bare skin and wiped away the blood. He'd found himself staring at her face, just like he had when they'd danced at the Saint Gabriel institute. He'd forgotten how silken and pale her skin was. It always caught him off-guard, that delicacy could mask such a powerful will. 

Without even thinking, he'd reached out and touched her cheek. She'd smiled at him, from under her brows, nervous, uncertain. When he didn't say anything but kept stroking gently, she tied off the bandage and remained, just watching him. His eyes were half-closed, afraid to look directly, afraid she'd pull away, and just as afraid she'd lean closer. 

She leaned closer. 

The kiss was soft, hesitant, and it was several seconds before either of them could marshal awareness to invite more. He couldn't remember who did what; he could only remember that one minute he was running his calloused thumb across her cheekbone and the next minute he was stunned to discover her mouth was cool, and wet, and her tongue was as delicate as her fingers. 

The kiss never ended. It simply faded, and they were staring at each other. He could see his own surprise reflected in her face, and she blushed, her eyes sliding away from his. His hands were shaking, and her breath was coming a little fast, her lips parted. He found himself staring at her mouth. 

The world had returned; the war was still going on. They struggled into their suits, his arm giving him painful pause, but he could feel his heart beating fast. He'd been a teenager long enough to know there was more to being human than killing, but he'd never had someone show him so easily and completely what else could exist. Relena had been willing, giving. He had wished, in that pure moment, that her gift would remain true. 

Heero stopped, reading a street sign before finally taking a right. His hands were dug deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched a little against the chill seeping through his bones. His black boots ate up the pavement, and his thoughts eating up his awareness. 

By the end of the war, he'd decided to leave. He was too afraid he'd taint that purity, that humanity she'd shown him. That, he thought bitterly, wasn't the only thing. He'd also known by then that he wasn't truly in love with her so much as he was in love with the ideal of who she'd been to him, for him, for the world. And he wasn't sure he could manage being with her if she wasn't on that pedestal. He didn't want to see flaws. He didn't want to acknowledge they existed. 

He wanted that single moment, that one kiss, to always be the truth. 

Heero sighed, pausing to wait for nighttime traffic to stop so he could cross the street. Relena had been an ideal, he thought, and he couldn't be in love with an ideal. He missed that powerful will, that certainty she held, but he couldn't really relate to it. In the days and weeks after he left them all behind, he hadn't missed her as much as he'd expected. 

What he'd missed was Duo. 

A car alarm went off, down the block, and Heero kept his pace steady, heading for the ship. He'd stay there for the night, and wake up with the team, and leave with them in the morning. He fingered the camera in his pocket, wondering what pictures he'd finally keep, and whether he could use the ship's computer to download the images and free up the memory space. 

Almost reluctantly his thoughts returned to Duo. That stupid, brash American who had no problem telling the rest of the team that he, trained nearly from birth to be the best, could make mistakes. When he'd heard, the idea rankled on the surface. It took a long time before he realized just how comforting the knowledge really was that Duo wasn't fooled. 

He'd missed the American's humor, his ability to grin as he came up with more strength in the face of overwhelming odds. He'd missed the idiot's way of surprising the Wing Zero pilot, continuing to fight even when there didn't seem to be a purpose. He'd missed the way Duo didn't worship him as an ideal. 

Heero grunted at himself, angry for the nostalgia. Look just how far it's gotten me, he chided himself. I lost that friendship, and it's too late now. Duo was always there to watch my back, and that's what I missed, really. Four years of therapy and he knew the intellectual reasons for the friendship: he and Duo had, in some ways, the closest upbringings. He could relate to Duo, and understand him, on a primal level that he couldn't do with anyone else. 

For a short time, with Odin, he'd had a guide, a quasi-parent, someone steady and reliable, just as Duo had Solo. And when those foundations were gone, they were both cast on their own, dealing with the world as miniature adults, choosing and acting and being as though childhood were something unimportant, to be set aside when life required. 

The differences in their personalities, Heero suspected, were more than just the issue of his shyness and Duo's extreme extroversion. Duo's foundation was based on that of a group, a family, where Heero's foundation was a single person. 

The photographer stopped short, two blocks from the docking station. 

Maybe that was it. 

Duo required people. Duo came after him, as a fellow Gundam pilot, much like Trowa had. Neither had done it because of something personal, of that Heero was certain. They'd done it because he was one of them. Quatre had helped him, stayed with him, fought at his side, for the same reason. Even Wufei, the other loner in the group, had eventually joined the group, going to huge lengths to retain that sense of belonging. They were in the war together, bound by a common goal. 

He was the only one who had walked away from that sense of a group, a team. He'd thought that once the goal was gone, so was the team. What if it wasn't? What if the ties still existed? Trowa was willing to leave school to help Duo. Quatre and Wufei, even now, may be supporting that action from afar, if hiding it. They were still a team, a group, an undeniable family. If Duo's life was defined by the need for a family, then Heero's departure was a negation of that need. 

Heero swore, slowly and softly under his breath. 

He remembered the pictures he'd taken that afternoon. All this time, he thought, I've been pushing people into the frame. The reviewers spout nonsense about me letting people speak for themselves, but they never did. I never let them. He'd spent four years putting his sanity back together, four years of work to know who he was, but he'd never stopped to let anyone else show him who they were, too. He'd worked so hard to create stability he'd forgotten to allow for the chaos of everyone else's intrusion. 

The dark-haired man stood under a streetlight and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. The tension in his shoulders drained slowly as he concentrated, the ache in his chest growing stronger. 

"That's what I did wrong," he whispered to himself on the empty street. "I left." 

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I'm not making any money off this, which is really a pity, considering how much time I spend editing. Grrrr. 

Alternate opening quote, which I didn't use for obvious reasons but it remains one of my favorites: 

"A kiss may not be the truth,   
but it is what we wish were true."  
― Steve Martin 

Dyna: Oh, you do say the sweetest things. Shouldn't you be writing a chapter right now, though? Hmm. Perhaps I should pause uploading chapters long enough to give you a break... hint, hint. ;-) 

Lindsey: Pocky is not necessary. Actually, now that I've had it, I'm still wondering what everyone thinks is so great about it. Other than the name, of course: pocky! Pocky! But if you wanted to bribe me with white rabbit candies, no problem. ;-) 

Crimson: I think there's a lot of things we learn in college, including how to get stinking drunk. I'm not sure why I picked whiskey – don't like it, myself – but Heero just didn't seem like the kind to drink Tequila. That seems more like Trowa's evil. As for OC – aww, thanks. I'm starting to wonder if I should put warnings on my stories: well-rounded original characters ahead! I get bored with stories where the OC steps in as needed and disappears, being a convenient plot device. The secret to a good OC is to remember s/he has hir own motivation. You like Hilde? Yay! I like her in the series – she's spunky, if naïve – and it seems she'd have to hold her own to remain good friends with Duo. 

Reb: Glad you like the quotes! This story just seemed to need a bit of poetic illustration acting as introduction for each chapter. Works better than telling people what music I was listening to, anyway. I've known a few people like Heero, and they're tough to have as friends. You do actually have to be a lot like Duo, because such strong personalities require an equally strong balance. That's one reason I'm not sure Relena and Heero would work as a long-term couple; she's not pushy enough in the right ways, although I could see them working as a platonic team very easily. Anyway, I've tried to reflect that element of strong shyness, which doesn't mean monotone – and such introversion is usually accompanied by introspective traits, which I think Heero has in spades. He's too bright to not turn the lens on himself every once and a while. 

Lainwyn: Ah, back on the ranch. I think we'll have to wait for those maniac hackers to come up with something. And I don't know which OC we'll see again, although I rather like Enny, unexpectedly so. She just kind of showed up again, so we'll see. Anyway, glad to hear I'm a pleasant distraction! Flattery gets you new chapters, but solid commentary gets you well-written chapters, especially if you've got theories as to what's happening. I love hearing those. Lets me know how well I'm doing with misleads and plot movements. 

Moonraven: Here's hoping you found the actual story, since you've now ruined yourself with spoilers by reading the commentary first. Heero and Relena? Let's face it, that episode or two on Libra raised my eyebrows. Something happened off-camera, and it's no surprise. Those two were definitely drawn to each other, but I retain my doubts of there being a true love. It was more a true infatuation, or a true ideal-exchange. But making it part of Heero's history is one way to give him a point of comparison to the friendships he had with the pilots, so it's in there. 

Schachzug: Heh, it brightens my day to upload the chapter and know I have another twenty-four hours before the story pressure on my brain hits maximum overload! ;-) 

With additional thanks to WingNut, chibi-sensei, Kitsunehi, Netta J, Sylviaspivey, CalicoCat, and everyone else who's sent me kind words, encouragement, and critique. 


	11. between the stillness

**28 Jan 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

Between the stillness in my heart  
And the roar of the approaching night  
― Jackson Browne 

"What a treat you could join us," a girl's voice called from the darkened bay. Heero looked up in surprise, his hands still deep in his pockets and his head deep in thought. He came alongside Hilde, who was sitting on the edge of the open cargo door's threshold, and raised his eyebrows at her. 

"Got news on the next job," she said. Heero offered her a hand up, and she brushed off the back of her pants before leading the way into the brightly lit ship. He paused at the door to his bunkroom, slipping off his jacket and hanging it on the closet hook before he realized she was waiting in the hallway. When he turned to look, she jerked her head and continued down the passageway. 

Heero watched her hips sway a little as she walked. It occurred to him that her hips seemed too wide, her shoulders too narrow, her waist too small. It was like seeing all the right parts in all the wrong proportions, and he scowled, although not completely certain why. His scowl grew deeper as he realized she was standing at the door to the gathering room, a question on her face. 

He paused in the door beside her. His palms were damp, and he tried to wipe them on his jeans without being too obvious about it. He'd stared down Wing Zero and beat the system into submission. This should be easy, he told himself. Breathing slowly through his nose, he stepped through the doorway. 

"Hito," Trowa said. "Good diversion on that job." 

Heero nodded, not trusting his voice as he glanced around the room. 

It was a small room, no more than ten feet deep and perhaps fifteen feet wide, but it was large enough for a long seating ledge facing the door and a desk-ledge along the wall to his left. The wall to his right held shelves. He was surprised to see a large collection of books, movies, magazines, and mechanical texts, all held behind thin wires to keep them in place during low-grav. The wall next to the door had a large flatscreen embedded in the wall. 

Duo was sitting at the desk, his back to the room as he typed rapidly. The monitor was sunk in the wall over the desk, and the longhaired man glanced up at the screen every few seconds. Next to him was a tall bottle of clear liquid. 

"Day," Hilde said. "What've you got?" 

"Decrypting now," Duo told her as he tapped a single key with finality. The screen before him sprang into life, lines scrolling. Duo scanned it, and then sat back, kicking the ledge with one foot to make his chair spin. His braid whipped out behind him, making a soft swish as it slid over the desktop. Duo had grabbed the bottle as he turned, and was already tilting it back for a drink when he came to a stop facing the room. "Basic trouble-making." 

"Let's see," Trowa said, moving to the screen. He stood by Duo and read for several seconds, finally nodding as he turned to Hilde, who had come to join him. Heero remained by the door, leaning up against the wall, his arms crossed. 

"Print that," Hilde told Duo, who spun again and went back to typing. Trowa sat back down on the long seat, lounging as he watched Hilde sit down at the other end. She stretched her legs out along the sofa's length and leaned back. 

The room was silent for a minute as the paper slipped from the printer slot beneath the monitor. Duo pulled it out, glanced it over, and handed it to Trowa, who leaned over and handed it to Hilde. She accepted it with a nod and read over it carefully while the three men waited. Finally she put the papers down and looked around. 

"There's a union dispute on a resource asteroid," she announced. "We've got a week during negotiations to make sure the workers agree to the offered contract." 

"Terrorize 'em," Duo translated. Hilde nodded, and Heero shifted against the wall but said nothing. The longhaired man shrugged, took another swig from the bottle, and grinned widely at Trowa. "Get us some fast ships, and blow the smithereens out of the place. That'd scare them." 

"Among other things," Trowa replied dryly. 

"Day, what have you been smoking?" Hilde's eyebrows were raised. 

"Why not? We hit the working areas off-hours. The workers will agree to anything just so their livelihood isn't threatened further." 

"True." Trowa's face was unreadable. 

"Use Hito." Duo waved the bottle at Heero. "We can let him do point. I hear he's quite a pilot." 

"Not anymore." Heero's voice was icy. "I've not piloted in several years." 

"It's like riding a bike," Duo retorted just as smoothly. 

"The best pilot should be vanguard." 

"Exactly." Duo's voice was sarcastic but his wartime smile was shining from his face. It didn't reach his eyes. 

Heero glared at the wall over Hilde's head. She was giving Trowa a questioning look, and the taller man glanced at her and then away. 

Pushing away from the wall a little, Heero pointed at Hilde to get her attention. When she looked, he pointed with his finger, swirling his hand to include the entire room in the gesture. He then pointed at his ear. It took a second for her to get his meaning before she nodded. Heero then pointed again at the entire room, and then at his eye. Hilde paused, frowned, and shook her head. 

Heero strolled over to the desk, grabbing a sheet of paper and a pen. He took a second to scribble something, and returned to his original position, dropping the paper on Hilde's lap on the way. There was a moment of silence as she digested the message. 

_Vayeate - 01, Mercurius - 03. Only one pilot could beat both._

Hilde knew exactly what he meant, and a smile tugged at her lips, finally growing into a full-faced smirk. She was injured during that last battle but not so much she'd missed Duo's triumphant cry that if OZ had wanted an unbeatable pilot as programming basis for its mobile dolls, they should've used him rather than Trowa and Heero. He'd taken down both dolls and not even broken a sweat. 

"You're right, Hito," she said calmly. "Day is definitely vanguard." 

"What?" Duo's voice was nearly a squawk. 

"Now can I hear some realistic ideas?" The young woman continued as though Duo's interruption hadn't occurred. Slowly she folded up the paper and slipped it into a back pocket, her smile growing even more smug as Duo's eyes narrowed dangerously. Trowa looked curious, but amused. 

"The negotiations will take a week," the Heavyarms pilot said, reading off the printout he'd gathered from where it had lain to Hilde. His voice was soft, but commanding. "Infiltration on various levels, and proceed with low-level terrorism. Explosives at integral levels, fires, sabotage." 

"Timed to match the negotiations," Hilde agreed. "If they vote like they're supposed to, our job is easier. And done faster." 

"And more boring," Duo added. 

"Same amount of money for you," the petite girl replied. "Are we carrying enough or do we need to get anything on the way?" 

"I did inventory this morning," Duo said, spinning his chair so his back was to the door, and Heero. "We have enough to blow the entire satellite out of orbit." 

"Trey, you'll go in as an inspector," Hilde told the other pilot. "I want you in the depths to place the charges. Day, you want to infiltrate or sneak?" 

"What do you think?" His smile was lazy. 

"Figures," she replied. "Jack the system while you're at it." 

"Aye, aye, captain." 

"Hito, you're with me." 

Duo's chair squeaked as he turned slightly to shoot a wary gaze at the girl. 

"Doing what?" Heero's eyes didn't quite meet hers. 

"I'm sure you'll think of something." 

"You got any nicer clothes? Something conservative." 

"We can get some," she said. "Why?" 

"I've thought of something," he replied, and looked up long enough to flash her a mischievous half-smile. 

She returned it with a satisfied nod. "The floor's all yours." 

Heero paused for a second, arranging his thoughts before he spoke. "We'll need a video camera, and a voice recorder. I'll go in as the cameraman, and Hel, you go in as a reporter." 

"They'll expect credentials," Trowa pointed out. 

"I can cook them up," Duo offered. His back was to Heero's, but his voice was steely, with that edge indicating the cold smile was still on his face. 

"You won't need to. Free Earth News will provide them without a problem," Heero said. "They're not well known, but their politics are pro-union." 

"Then they'd have someone already on site," Hilde replied. 

"Not likely," Heero said. "They rarely have the money to send anyone off-planet. They'll accept us as freelance." 

"You sure?" Hilde was dubious. 

"If they don't, fake the papers. If they do, we can be checked on without a problem." 

Trowa glanced at Hilde and nodded. She chewed on her lower lip for a second before responding. "And then what?" 

"We'll focus on the living quarters and the areas around the strikers' meeting locations," Heero said. "Since I doubt an inspector would be allowed in those places." 

Trowa nodded again. 

"All right, then," Hilde said and stood up. "Day, evaporate. Hito, the system's yours. Contact the newspaper. Trey, let me know if you need anything else and head out in the morning. Same frequency as always." 

Trowa was on his feet just as smoothly, and gone. Duo followed him out without a word, but Heero could hear the murmur of Duo's voice as the two men spoke quietly in the hallway. 

"Get to it," Hilde ordered Heero, and he realized he hadn't moved, still poised to defend himself in case Duo punched him on the way out. Shaking himself slightly, he gave her a crooked smile and got to work. 

* * *

Hilde had been quiet all morning. 

They'd spent an hour shopping and come away with clothes for both of them. Nothing too expensive, Heero had explained; it was all the kind of clothes worn by someone who wants to look classy but can't quite afford quality. He regarded the khaki pants with something approaching an ironic smile; they were what someone would have bought had they been trying to dress like he used to. Her soft voice drew him back to the present. 

"I'm not really the expert at infiltration," she was saying. "That's Trey's thing." 

"You're good at talking," he assured her. "And you handled that job in the bar really well." 

She blush a little, and ducked her head. 

"By the way," he added. "Sorry..." He pointed at her cheek, and canted his head at her, hoping she'd understand. Heero wasn't sure he wanted the listening devices to pick up that he was starting to develop a fondness for the girl. 

She blinked, then got what he meant, and smiled. "No problem," she chirped. "All in a day's work. Anyway, I got the tickets. And the credentials came through this morning from Free Earth News." 

"Good." 

Another ten minutes, and he'd packed for both of them, tucking his little camera back in his pocket. He'd downloaded his photographs the night before and stored them in a small folder on the ship's supplementary hardboard. Hilde returned from talking to Trey with a silver briefcase while Heero lugged their black rolling case. In ten hours they'd be at the resource satellite, and ready to start their part of the job. 

* * *

There was little conversation between them during the shuttle flight except Hilde's complaints about the fact that Day had booked a flight with three stopovers. When the shuttle finally reached their destination, Hilde led the way to a small hotel near the docking station. Nestled within the huge clump of floating rock, the little city had the basic amenities for the workers, along with two or three hotels for visiting managers and businesspeople traveling through the system. 

Heero unlocked the door to his room, adjoining Hilde's, and sank onto the bed with a sigh. Sitting up after a few minutes, he pulled the second case towards him and snapped it open. Inside was a live-action recoding camera; Duo had done a decent job of procuring professional-quality. The thought of the other man made Heero pause, and he took a minute to steady himself away from the pain of his epiphany the day before. 

Have emotions. Act on them. But, he reminded himself, don't show them. 

There was a tap at the door, and he lifted his head, surprised that Hilde would finally think to knock. She didn't wait for him to call out, however, and let herself in. 

"I'm going to start locking doors around you," he told her. 

She grinned as she seated herself on the other side of the camera box. "That's it?" When he nodded, she looked it over skeptically. "Y'know, Day got it for us. Think it'll explode?" 

He smiled, an embarrassed expression, just as he remembered he was supposed to be in mission mode, and let the smile fade from his face. Hilde noticed. 

"Don't stop doing that," she told him. 

"Doing what?" 

"Smiling. You have a nice smile." 

"Hn." He lifted the video camera out of the box and turned it around in his hands. "It's been awhile since I've worked with moving images." 

"I've got the name of one of the union leaders, so you can start practicing right away." 

"What?" Heero glanced up at her. She certainly worked fast. "Right now?" 

"Once you get changed," she said, smirking. "We're to meet him for drinks at the bar in the hotel. They have a back room used for meetings. He seemed to want it casual." She didn't move, and Heero raised an eyebrow at her. 

"What are you still doing here?" 

"Waiting for you to change." Her smirk grew wider. 

"Get out," he finally snapped, but tempered it with a raised eyebrow. She grinned wickedly at him, and tipped an invisible hat at him before turning around to leave. 

"Touchy," she called over her shoulder. "I was just hoping I'd get to see what all the fuss was about." With that, the door shut behind her and Heero was left gaping at the closed door. 

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, own a fez. 

Kiya_Sama: You can relax now. Mission mode does not mean lack of feelings... but there's gotta be plot, too, y'know. I promise the next chapter will be longer, too. I just wasn't feeling very writery this morning – besides, this seemed like a good place to stop. 

Nlp: What, you didn't notice the blatant self-insertion? The third avatar on the right. That's me, dammit! Sheesh, I get no respect. (Heh.) 

Crimson: See, another update! And thanks so much for the kind words about Heero's characterization – the more I review the anime, the more I get a bit intimidated. For all that the usual Gundam UC fans seem to loathe Gundam AC, I find the characters are way more complex than what you usually find in this medium. Each character has its own motivation and the twain don't always meet, and things are messy. Hey, at least I can duplicate the messy part! 

SilverCaladan: Not the writing, not the plot, not the characters? Oh, and I was trying so hard. I agree that Heero can be stupid in some ways, although I do believe the character is very perceptive – he's just awfully stubborn about what he thinks should be done, and that puts him at loggerheads with others. Combine that with his strong introversion, and you have conflict. And conflict is good (at least in a story). 

CinC: Gah, you're confusing me, and I'm writing this damn thing! Actually, there is a plan. Somewhere. I just misplaced it, but I think it was over here under the copies of MegaTokyo. Oh, wait, that was my phone bill. Never mind. But never fear... there is a madness to my method, but as long as getting there is fun... 

Lainwyn: So you're confused too? Yay! I love doing misleads. It pleases me (and bewilders me) that I'm actually coming up with a story that has people guessing. As for what you're missing... it's from Heero's POV. So as long as he's in the dark, so will we be, too. Well, not me, but I'm lucky that way. Something that bugs me in fiction is when a character has a deep, dark secret (or simply something too painful to discuss) and yet bam! First time the question's asked, the character says: oh, here's the story. In real life, we rarely do that if it's a tender point. In fiction, refraining from telling heightens tension. So, there you go. That's my excuse this week. ;-) 


	12. describe the absence of feeling

**28 Jan 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

Grief is a word to describe the absence of feeling;  
now I know, now I know what it means to be broken.  
― Michael Timmins 

Heero focused on a point on the wall across from him and wished he'd argued when Hilde decided to have them skip lunch in favor of another interview. It was one more in a string, having started with the union leader the night before. It had been two hours, consisting mostly of the man's pompous statements droning on over cheap beer and overflowing ashtrays. 

Any respect Heero had developed for Hilde had shot up even higher as he observed her conversations with the leader, Jake, and his five or six minions grouped around the table. Within minutes she'd had them all at ease, her light banter fitting in perfectly. She was dressed casually in a conservative blue skirt and white top, and Heero had to remind himself several times that she was also from L2. She may have been raised in a more sheltered environment, but five years of being Duo's best friend was bound to rub off on her. 

When they'd finally escaped the lecture, she'd demanded that he take the time to edit out her voice, rather than keep the original version laying around. It was another two hours before he could put the camera down and get some sleep. 

Now it was the second day of their trip, mid-afternoon, and they were being dragged to the fourth pocket of union organizers. Heero watched, impressed yet again, as Hilde skillfully placed explosives in the most incongruous places: under the edge of a desk, beneath a chair, inside a cabinet. 

Heero kept the camera steady on his shoulder, recording her latest interviewee, and remembered how he used to tell Duo that the braid would stand out. Hilde was another one he expected to stand out. Who wouldn't notice the bright blue eyes, the charming smile, the lilt of her voice? But instead, they all seemed so taken by the fact that she was noticing them that they never stopped to really pay attention to whatever her hands were doing under that table, at that doorknob, by that light switch. 

Duo had rigged each tiny explosive as a group, set for a series of frequencies, to be triggered as needed. It was simply a matter of tracking which ones were in which locations, and the Wing Zero pilot had no problem cataloging the ongoing placements. 

Hilde nudged him in the ribs and he blinked, lowering the camera to look down at her. 

"We're done," she told him quietly. "Ready for an early dinner?" 

He nodded, and she turned to the men grouped around her, giving them a deceptively innocent smile. She was saying something about the article she was writing, and how soon Free Earth News would be publishing their video accounts. It was several minutes more before Heero realized she was leading him back through the warren of employee housing, and then they were back at the hotel. 

She sighed as she unlocked her door, holding it open for him to follow her in. While he placed the camera on her dresser, she collapsed on the bed. 

"Shit," she exclaimed, not even sitting up as she toed her shoes off. "My feet are fucking killing me!" Hilde popped back up with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "Did your training include foot rubs?" 

"Yes," he replied, leaning against the dresser with his arms crossed as he watched her from under his eyebrows. "I'm one of the best when it comes to getting them." 

"Hito!" Hilde laughed and swooped down, grabbing a shoe and throwing it at him. He ducked quickly and it hit the mirror behind him. "Men! First dibs on the shower." 

Heero grinned and let himself into his own room through the adjourning door, taking the camera with him. Pausing for a minute, he unbuttoned his shirt, pulled off his belt, undid the top button of his pants, and then froze. Letting his hands fall to his sides, he hung his head. The emotions washed over him as the cool air hit his bare chest. 

What am I doing here? I'm following someone around as she places explosives, field dampers and smoke bombs all over the damn place. This isn't peace. I didn't go through hell and death to be here. He chuckled miserably at his thoughts. I want to go home. 

Heero threw his head back, rolling his neck as the joints popped, shrugged his shoulders and let them relax. One of his hands slapped lightly at his leg as he thought, and a mischievous smile began to tug at his lips. Turning without a second thought, he strode across the room and yanked open the bathroom door. 

He was greeted with a shriek. 

"_Hito!_" Hilde's form was barely visible behind the dappled shower curtain, but she was definitely aware of his entrance. "What the hell are you doing?" 

"Entering without knocking. What does it look like?" He asked her ingenuously. "Needed my toothbrush." 

"Bastard!" Hilde hollered, but her indignant shout barely masked the laughter bubbling up in her voice. Heero grinned at the shower curtain and left just as the curtain was yanked open and a bar of soap hit him in the back of the head. The door shut, cutting off his laughter as she continued to sputter. 

* * *

Hilde was reading when Heero joined her in the hotel's empty restaurant. His hair was still wet from the quick shower, and even messier than usual, but his deep blue eyes were bright from an edge of hunger. 

"I ordered a sandwich for you," she told him. "The service is so slow, and we've got a union meeting to observe in forty-five minutes." 

"Is this what it's going to be like all week?" He grumbled, and seated himself across from her and tried to catch a waiter's eye. He was ignored. 

"We're very popular," she replied. "Seems no one ever asked these folks what they think." 

"Something wrong?" 

"Maybe." She set the papers down with a sigh. "You read any of this?" 

He shook his head, finally sighting a waiter. Heero caught the boy's eye, but the boy stared straight at him and kept walking. He made a disgusted sound, and Hilde giggled. 

"What?" He glared at her. 

"You were _growling_." 

"Hn." He got up, stalked over to the waiter, cornering him by the kitchen door, demanded his drink order – whiskey, neat – and returned to the table. It wasn't quite the same as punching something but it produced a satisfied feeling nonetheless. 

"Hito." The girl raised her eyebrows at him and waved the papers in his face. "You didn't answer my question. Have you read any of this? Have you even listened to what the union organizers have been saying?" 

He had to pause and think about that. "Not really," he admitted. 

"Didn't think so." She set the papers down with a sigh. They were mostly propaganda statements from the union leaders. "I don't know if the union's the good guy." 

"What?" In the corner of his eye, Heero saw the whiskey set down by his water glass but he was too busy trying to figure out Hilde's expression. She had a strange look on her face that he couldn't read, somewhere between upset and amused. 

Her voice dropped to a whisper as the waiter left, and she leaned over the table. "We're supposed to keep the union from forming, so the workers will accept the bosses' offers. Thing is, I don't think the union would make the situation better." 

"What?" 

"That head injury still bothering you?" The girl sat back, her blue eyes twinkling, and she tucked a longer strand of hair behind her ear. "I think the union's pushing the workers into a contract that would render them little better than indentured servants." 

He dragged the papers towards him, and began flipping through them. "Unions are usually an improvement." 

"Traditionally," she agreed. "But they can also cripple the economy. Forcing the pay rates this high seems good on the face of it, but it'd undermine any profits so badly the mining operation would be bankrupt in four, maybe five months." 

The photographer scanned the pages. On the face of it, the union's demands seemed like the things any employee would want. Guaranteed sick time, generous holiday time, higher pay scales, and annual increases for cost of living. Excellent health insurance, too. 

"Read the third page. I think it's near the bottom," Hilde prompted. She waited while he read it, nodding as his eyes widened. "Exactly," she told him smugly. "The workers have to agree to stay in the union, which means this union, on this rock. If the asteroid business is shut down, they're all stuck here. They can be held legally responsible, at the beck and call of the union, if they try to work elsewhere." 

"That's not the way unions work," the dark-haired man muttered. "They're for people to band together to prevent exploitation by a powerful business interest." 

"But if the union itself is a powerful business interest..." She let the question hang in the air, and Heero glanced up to see her watching him carefully. "It's all so stupid." 

He raised his eyebrows at her, and she shrugged, her gaze sliding away from him as she spoke. "The union organizers use rhetoric to cajole the workers and sticks to beat the picket-crossers, and we're only marginally less pleasant. And in the end, if we left the workers alone, I think they'd realize which end is up. Talking could solve a lot of this, instead of harassing them from both sides." 

"What are you planning?" His voice was even, but his narrowed eyes bespoke the suspicion he was beginning to feel. 

Their dinner arrived, and they waited until the boy had left. 

"I think I might write that article after all," she said. "Since we're here anyway." 

* * *

The second day went much like the first. Heero steadfastly ignored everyone but Hilde, and Hilde chatted her way through the employees' sector while patiently ignoring the glaring man with the camera. Between them, they made a strange couple, but Heero was pleased to see the miners keeping their flirtation low-key. If the girl was aware his protective mode had kicked in, she gave no indication. 

Thankfully she didn't opt to have them skip lunch again. Heero was ready to argue, after learning his lesson the day before. Afterwards they joined back up with Jake, and the union organizer led them through the working sector. They didn't cross the picket line, but Heero got fifteen minutes of footage of the striking workers. Meanwhile, Hilde stashed nearly a dozen more explosives and smoke bombs. 

On their way back to the hotel, the first seven mini-bombs went off, timed for the dinner break. The alarms were blaring from the meeting building, and the scene was panicked, but the asteroid's fire fighters arrived quickly. It was soon reported that no one had been killed, although three were injured. Hilde dropped into role without pause, and Heero automatically hefted the camera as she began interviewing the fire fighters on the scene. 

It was eight o'clock standard time before they got to their rooms. Heero waved Hilde away with one hand as he unlocked his own door, dropping the camera on the bed as he kicked off his shoes. A second later he'd landed on the bed as well, his face down. He'd just grabbed a pillow when he heard the connecting door open. 

Heero groaned into the pillow. 

"Get up, lazy," Hilde said behind him. 

He nearly yelped when she tapped him on the insole of his foot. 

"Hey! You're ticklish!" Delighted. 

Heero rolled over to see Hilde, her hands on her hips, and a look of self-satisfied discovery on her face. When she didn't respond to his iciest glare, he let his head fall back and an expression of long-suffering patience settled onto his features. 

"Stop that," she ordered, then brightened. "Pull out something nice. We've got invitations for after dinner." 

"We do?" 

"Actually, I do, but you're coming along." 

"I'm sure you can handle yourself." Heero rolled back over on his stomach and grabbed the pillow again. 

"I know I can, but inspectors can be a sneaky lot." Her tone was light, with no additional emphasis. "Besides, it's not safe now. Didn't you hear two another fire started just as one of the picketing groups was about to have their nightly meeting? No suspects, no idea of how..." Her voice trailed off as she shut the connecting door behind her. 

An inspector? Heero frowned and rolled over, staring at the closed door. 

Trowa. 

* * *

"No, you can _not_ wear that." Hilde wrinkled her nose at the green button-up shirt Heero had selected. 

The dark-haired man glared at her. The girl was lying on her stomach across his bed, wearing an green iridescent slip of a sleeveless dress that barely reached mid-thigh with a low-cut back that revealed a swath of pale skin. 

Heero sighed, aware he'd given her enough of an argument about her own selection, but he felt his worries were justified. They'd been invited to the asteroid's best club, and Heero was certain they'd be surrounded by miners whose only contact with women was limited to wives and whores. Hilde's dress seemed like an open invitation for trouble. 

He pondered that thought as he dug through the suitcase for a shirt she'd approve. Heero wasn't interested in spending the night beating down men trying to paw at his teammate who also happened to be Duo's best friend. The last thing he needed was another reason for Duo to want to pound him. Frustrated, he pulled out a long-sleeved shirt from the bottom of the case and held it up. Heero raised an eyebrow at Hilde over the shirt. 

"Where did this come from?" It looked like something Wufei would wear: raw silk, and a mandarin collar. Fabric loops and knots ran from neckline to hem, all in a rich dark sapphire blue. 

"The suitcase, idiot," she drawled. 

"You know what I mean," he retorted. He couldn't remember either of them buying it while shopping for the trip. 

"Doesn't matter," she announced, rolling over on her back. "It's perfect. Change, already. It's almost nine, and we're supposed to be there in a half-hour." 

He didn't even bother to tell her to leave, but stepped into the bathroom, doing his best to ignore her laughter behind him. 

* * *

The club was classier than Heero had expected, and he was secretly glad he'd listened to Hilde's fashion suggestions. He didn't stand out as much in the dressy shirt and black pants, although he got enough attention for the way his blue eyes shot daggers at every man who looked in Hilde's direction. Unfortunately, that was pretty much every man in the crowded bar. 

Cigarette and cigar smoke drifted towards the ceiling, bathing the soft lighting in a haze of gray. Heero stood behind Hilde as she greeted the union organizers who'd invited them, doing his best to nod appreciatively each time Hilde threw a warning look his way. After several minutes of visiting, she took him by the arm and guided him to a table along the wall. 

"There's supposed to be live entertainment," she said. The music wasn't as loud as he'd expected, either. A cocktail waitress appeared, took their drink orders, and faded into the crowd. Hilde leaned over again. "It's a lounge more than a club, I think." 

Heero considered what constituted 'live entertainment' to miners, and whether faking internal injuries would get him out of there faster. He hadn't like putting on the monkey suit when dealing with Relena, and he wasn't sure the experience had improved with age. The only benefit was that he wasn't forced to wear a bow tie this time. It was little comfort given the nasty looks he was getting from some of the other men in the bar. 

By the time their drinks appeared, the lights were dimming and a pianist, a bassist, and a drummer had gathered on the stage. The floor was clear for an area in front of them, but it was hard to see past the parade of men coming by to welcome Hilde. There were plenty of other women in the place, Heero noted, but Hilde just had a way of delivering a teasing line that was drawing in the marks. 

A woman had joined the band, and it was several minutes before her voice filtered into Heero's consciousness. It was some old torch song, in a low sulty delivery, and a glittering dress that could compete with Hilde's for outright sex appeal. At least, the photographer thought, it wasn't music that required the audience dance like twitching road kill, nor would it damage his eardrums. He could hear Hilde's voice, only marginally raised to be heard, and drew his attention back to the table in time to realize the latest mark was one of their team mates. 

It's Trowa in a suit, Heero thought, keeping his face still and his eyes flat to prevent allowing a flash of recognition. Heavyarms' pilot was in a dark double-breasted suit, with a white shirt that glowed gently under the lights, his dark crest of hair falling over his face. His slim figure was set off perfectly; highlighting his broad shoulders, trim hips, and long legs. Heero glared at the man, since he'd been doing that to the other men so far that night. A second man joined Trowa, chatting with Hilde for a moment before sliding into the seat next to Heero. 

"Look at him," the man said to Heero, congenially, as though they were old friends. Heero shot the man a startled look that faded back into a glare. 

"He's gonna get her," the man said, oblivious to the fact that Heero's glare had just gone down a notch in temperature from cool to positively frosty. "Telling you, Mr. Barlow gets here from headquarters and we knew right away no one would be safe. Doncha hate guys like that?" The man grinned at Heero, relaxing into his seat. It was clear he wasn't going anywhere soon, and Heero just barely turned his head in time to see Hilde getting up, her hand in Trowa's. 

The tall pilot led her onto the dance floor and spun her once before pulling her close. Her petite form was pressed up against him, her high heels just barely raising her enough to tuck her head neatly under his chin. Trowa had one hand on her lower back, steering her carefully around the dance floor between the other couples as they sasheyed together in a lazy waltz. 

"But you gotta admit," the man was saying beside him. "They do look good together. I'm Tom, by the way. I'm the program manager for sixth level. I hear you're one of the journalists?" 

Heero nodded, dragging his eyes off the dancing couple long enough to glare at the man one more time. The man's eyes widened, and he leaned back, whistling. 

"Damn, is she your girl? Sorry about what I said―" 

"No," Heero said, a little more forcefully than he meant to. 

"Oh, I get it," Tom said, giving Heero a knowing expression. Heero turned his head away, watching as Hilde and Trowa glided back into view. He wondered why he was surprised at Trowa's masterful ability – the man was an acrobat, after all. If anyone should be able to move gracefully on a dance floor, it'd be Trowa. 

Heavyarms' pilot was whispering something into Hilde's ear, and she was laughing politely at intervals. For all appearances the tall man was propositioning her, and she was declining gracefully. They certainly didn't look like they were plotting sabotage for the mining levels. 

When the song ended, many in the audience politely clapped, including Tom, still sitting next to Heero. The dark-haired man, however, tossed back the rest of his whiskey and glowered at the two men approaching Hilde on the dance floor, who had probably determined they were far enough away that the likelihood of Heero ripping out their throats was reduced. Hilde accepted the first offer with some laughing comment to the second. Trowa, meanwhile, faded back into the crowd after kissing Hilde's hand. 

Heero stared at his empty glass and decided it was time to start ordering ginger ale. 

Another two songs went past, and eventually Tom slipped away with some muttered comment that Heero didn't hear and didn't bother listening to anyway. Hilde was in demand, and enjoying every minute of it, and Heero moved his gaze to study the club's inhabitants. At every point he was aware of Hilde's general location on the dance floor, but her absence from the table meant his view of the rest of the club was finally unobstructed by admiring fans. 

The photographer realized a smile was sneaking onto his face as he watched her obvious pleasure. The girl might be running a crew of unsavory types with a questionable mission, he reminded himself, but she was still only twenty-one. Staying up late, dancing all night and being admired were things she deserved. She'd worked as hard, in her own way, for peace. Wasn't dancing all night part of peace? So this is her reward, Heero thought. The least he could do, in Duo's absence, was make sure she was safe. 

His self-satisfied train of thought was derailed abruptly when he caught a glimpse of a man near the back of the bar who was watching Hilde nearly as intently as Heero. It wasn't until the man turned to order another drink that Heero saw the braid, its long twist capturing the bar's overhead lights in a tangle of auburn. The reddish color stood out against Duo's customary all-black ensemble, and Heero smirked. Duo would be eighty and probably still favoring black clothing. Once a thief, always a thief. 

Heero was pondering Duo's appearance at the club when he noticed Trowa standing with another group of men at the front of the bar. Trowa's group seemed to be mostly managerial types, dressed a little nicer than the rest of the rough crowd. Trowa was also watching Hilde, who was presently laughing as she worked out the foxtrot with a man two inches shorter than her. 

He sunk a little lower in his seat as he surreptitiously watched Duo out of the corner of his eye. Unwillingly he remembered Enny leaning against him, her breath playing along his ear as she gave him the play-by-play. Jeet, talking to Duo. Jeet, leaning on Duo. Jeet, leaving with Duo. 

Heero's face flushed, certain he knew the purpose of the departure. His thoughts halted as he considered the memory. Duo had cut Jeet off, but then agreed after all. Why? Jeet had acted like it was a regular thing, for Duo to be his john. Heero flinched unconsciously at the thought of calling Duo something so crass. He couldn't figure out, then, what made Duo change his mind that day. All Heero knew was that he was getting more and more annoyed just thinking about it. 

The song ended, another began, and Heero impulsively stood up. He knew this song; Bernie used to play it while reviewing Heero's negatives. He was suddenly hit with a bolt of homesickness, and he pushed it away as he headed straight for Hilde. Two men were vying for her attention, but he stepped past them and took Hilde in his arms. 

"My turn," he said over his shoulder, yanking her close. One hand went down to her hip, and the other held her hand up near his shoulder. "You've been on the floor all night," he muttered in her ear. "Don't complain to me later when your feet fall off." 

"I didn't know you could dance," she replied blithely as the singer's sultry tones flooded the dance floor. 

"I can do a lot of things," he replied, his grip slowly loosening as he relaxed into the familiar steps of a simplified tango. 

"Hush," she chided. "I'm busy counting steps." 

"Don't. I'm leading here, not you." 

"Do you ever follow?" She pulled away to look up at him, inadvertently tilting her hips against his as he spun them around, guiding her swiftly backwards. "Or are you always in charge?" 

"Yes," he answered, purposefully ambiguous. She tossed him a playful smile and leaned into him, her forehead against his cheek as they stepped forward, pause, two steps back, pause, half-spin turn. The singer was accompanied only by the deep bass notes and the drum's whisk on the snare, making the song almost a cappella. 

He was whispering the refrain with the singer. "Let me fall out of the window with confetti in my hair..." Hilde remained quiet as his words crept into her ears. 

"I love this song," he said suddenly, interrupting himself. He could feel Hilde's quiet chuckle against his chin. 

"One more thing I didn't know about you," she teased. "So how do you know this song?" 

"A... friend used to play it a lot," he said after a pause. They were quiet for a minute, and he steered her around again so he could see the back bar. Duo was still standing there, but didn't seem to be looking their way. Heero let his eyes close halfway, focused on the bass line throbbing through the floor. 

The refrain came around again, a sulky moan from the singer, her silvery dress glinting under the lights. Step, pause, step, pause, turn... the movement was liquid, sexual, and Heero's smile was feral above Hilde's shoulder. Her eyes, in turn, were large, but a smile twitched at the corner of her lips. 

The ex-Gundam pilot focused on a point over her shoulder, staring at the bar where Duo had been standing a second before. He was humming again, a husky baritone. "Deal out jacks or better from a blanket by the stairs..." 

Duo reappeared in his sights, and Heero stared, his expression wild and possessive as he whispered in Hilde's ear. 

"I'll tell you all my secrets, but I'll lie about my past..." Heero's eyes were locked onto Duo's. The dark-haired man lowered his head, watching the other pilot from under his brows. Heero's lips were poised over Hilde's neck in an intimate gesture as he spun them one last time, turning his back on Duo. 

Then the song was over, and Hilde stayed where she was. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, and then they stepped apart as another man approached. Heero fought the sudden urge to apologize, instead settling for a quick kiss on her cheek as he whispered in her ear. 

"Thanks..." 

"What are friends for?" Hilde teased then almost as abruptly her expression froze. She was looking past Heero, and he frowned, confused. Hilde caught the look and glanced up at him, her eyes dangerous enough to make him pull back a half step. Almost as quickly the look was gone, and she was giving a brilliant smile to a young man trying to cut in. In seconds she was laughing at the man's words, and Heero made his way back to the table, puzzled both at her reaction and his own actions. 

Several songs later, Hilde returned to the table, her eyebrows raised at the three empty shot glasses lined up in front of Heero. His movements were steady, however, as he stood and followed her out. She paused a few times, giving courteous goodnights to various people, and Heero waited each time, satisfied that he no longer had to glare. Hilde's admirers were more than happy that he merely stared, his entire body communicating his desire to be on his way. 

Outside the club Hilde said nothing, and Heero followed, his footsteps silent behind her. They were almost at the hotel when Hilde suddenly spun and slapped Heero across the face. Stunned, he pulled back a fist before he thought twice and dropped his hand. 

"What the _fuck_ were you doing in there?" she cried. 

"When?" Doubly shocked, Heero could only stare at her. His fist was still flexing in automatic response to the strike, and it took him a minute to get past the whiskey in his system to register that she looked like she was on the verge of tears. 

"When we were dancing!" 

Heero blinked, almost positive she'd just stomped a foot. 

"What kind of game are you playing?" She was shouting, and Heero instinctively glanced around to see if they had an audience. When he looked back, she was already running for the hotel. 

Bewildered, he could only stand in the asteroid city's broad avenue and stare as the sound of her footsteps receded in the distance. 

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, have leftover pizza in the fridge. You're welcome to it, if you ask nicely. No anchovies. 

Gerald Tarrant and Quicksilver: Glad you like Hilde! She's growing on me, but she is the lynchpin of the whole plotline, anyway. Yeah, I'm surprised too that there isn't more hacker action in GW fics, what with Duo and Heero always getting into systems where they don't belong. 

Dyna: Heero's moving along, but he's about to hit a few rough spots, thanks to his... uh... I don't know what you'd call it at the end of this chapter. Oh, he's just one confused puppy. 

Hell's Bitch: Oh, that's just what I love to hear! Never fear, there's plenty more to come. I build a complex plot... fun to read, I hope, but man, it's a lot of writing! 

Moonraven: Have you even started reading the real story yet? Or are you still over there with the commentary? ;-) 

CinC: I'm hoping we'll get to see some of what the other characters think about Heero, but a great deal of it's very subtle. If you go back, you can see that Heero's not always catching some of the minor points – but the nucleus for reconciliation is definitely in there... assuming Duo doesn't kick his ass for the bar scene! 

Lainwyn: Trowa, strangely, is not turning out to be a hard character to write. He's like the verbal form of Duo, who only pulls a gun when he's going to shoot someone. Trowa only opens his mouth to say something worthwhile. (Compared to Heero, who pulls a gun at every opportunity and rarely actually fires.) As for the Vayeate & Mercurious bit, I think Heero was aware of that event (or related ones), since he has Duo do the piloting in Endless Waltz and is very upfront that Duo's skills outrank his as a pilot. 


	13. the one comes rushing in

**31 Jan 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

And if I were fearless,   
could you be my reckless friend?  
And if I were helpless,   
could you be the one comes rushing in?  
― Cyndi Lauper 

Over the next two days Heero accompanied Hilde to eight more union meetings scattered through the asteroid city. Both nights he'd spent at least two hours in his hotel room before going to bed. Scanning the files systematically, he deleted every instance of Hilde's voice to protect her identity. The words and images of the people interviewed, however, he left intact. 

The number of people on the picket lines had dropped due to growing fears on the part of the workers, and union meeting attendance had dropped dramatically. Union meetings were being bombed. Never enough to hurt anyone or damage the structure, but most of them seemed to go off just before or after the meetings. The fire fighting teams were taking on more volunteers to keep up, and the miners were looking haggard and jumpy from the tension. 

The morning after Hilde's outburst, Heero had regarded the likelihood of another shared breakfast with trepidation. He was up and dressed in record time, sitting on the bed, braced to go get her if she was still mad at him. The problem was that he couldn't entirely figure out what he'd done, except in a vague sense, and he didn't want to really think about it. It was easier to focus on the job and ignore the strange tugging in his chest when he thought of the way he'd locked his gaze on Duo, staring at the other man across the dance floor. 

But then Hilde breezed into his room as though nothing had changed, her voice a little too perky for that early in the morning. Heero wondered yet again how a morning person like Hilde survived hanging out with someone like Duo, who seemed to think mornings were a curse to be avoided at all costs. By the time they'd eaten breakfast he'd relaxed, hopeful that whatever had upset Hilde was behind her. She certainly acted as though she didn't remember the short argument. 

The third day passed without event, other than the one time they were evacuated because of a fire in the union offices. The only injury was the filing cabinets. Meanwhile the union's ability to interact with the Interstellar Miner's Union seemed to be limited; rumors were spreading of viruses, server shutdowns, and email outages. It wasn't until the fourth day that it occurred to Heero there had been no word of sabotage in the mining holes. 

Over a late lunch on the fourth day, in the nearly empty restaurant, Heero watched the girl across from him and decided to broach the subject. 

"Hel," he started, and then stopped. 

"Hm?" She chewed, swallowed, and gave him an expectant look. 

"The...mining operations," he said, awkwardly, keeping his voice as low as possible. "They're...fine." 

"That's right," she said, and speared another piece of lettuce. 

"Are they supposed to be?" 

"Things change," the girl said with a shrug. "Miscalculation, mostly. No reason to threaten the workers while at work if the real objective is to get them away from the picket lines. Making work dangerous would make them fearful to go to work, and that might add to the union's power. Make them able to argue they could protect the workers if a union existed." 

"That's what I thought." Heero nodded, his brow furrowed. "So anyone who's an inspector..." 

"Has ended up spending the week wearing a suit and doing nothing," she replied with a quick grin. "Life's tough." 

The conversation ended. Heero stared down at his pastrami sandwich, unsatisfied. It took a bit before it sunk in that he was wishing for Duo's cooking. 

* * *

The fifth day of their visit, the announcement came that the workers had voted early to accept the company's standing offer. The agreement was legally officiated and accepted, Hilde told Heero, which meant the union was out of the running until the contract expired in a year. 

"Pack your bags, we're heading out," she announced after lunch. Her eyes were tired. She'd been slowly showing more of the strain from playing her role. 

Heero had woken at several points during the night before, listening to the familiar tapping of a keyboard from the other room as Hilde wrote out her article about the union's devious methods and attached it to the three hours of edited video footage. Her slant had gone from pro-union to pro-union ― with the exception of this branch. 

The photographer wasn't sure Free Earth News would print it, since their politics were devoutly pro-union, but he sensed the girl wanted to make up, somehow, for having played a role in injuring people. At the bottom of it all, she was as kind as Quatre, and he suspected she loathed the job she was doing. It didn't tell him anymore about why she was doing it, but it made him almost certain that the circumstances weren't entirely of her own choosing. 

Heero watched Hilde collapse onto his bed as he carefully folded and packed their clothes. He lingered for a second over the silk shirt, his fingers smoothing the wrinkles. 

"You can keep that," she said from behind him, quietly. 

He looked at the shirt one more time, then put it in the suitcase as he shook his head. 

"Really," she insisted. "Please." 

He turned, looking over his shoulder at her. She had gotten up and was swaying gently on her feet. He gave her a crooked smile. 

"Only if you promise me to sleep for the next eighteen hours," he told her. "You've worked hard these past days." 

"You noticed." The petite brunette sighed, rubbing her forehead as she crossed the room to the adjourning door. 

"Of course," Heero told her dryly. "I've seen the symptoms before." 

"Yeah." With that, the door shut softly behind her. 

* * *

The asteroid's shuttle bay was busy, and no one noticed the couple moving through the crowd to reach a small ship tucked in a side bay. Hilde hit the keypad for the cargo door, her smile tight. 

"Ready, Hito?" 

"For what?" Heero glanced down at her, confused. Her tension had been growing since they'd left the hotel, and he was back to feeling lost. The girl's moods were sometimes hard to track, and he could feel himself falling back into that space where nothing made sense and the only option was retreating into mission mode. 

But she was already shaking her head, offering him another Cheshire flash of a grin. "To sleep for eighteen hours," she said with a toss of her head as the hatch slid up. He followed her into the silent ship. 

* * *

Duo arrived thirty minutes later. 

Heero had finished putting away the clothes, giving Hilde her share before insisting she go lay down. He'd busied himself in the cockpit, reviewing the ship's controls. The thief was completely silent as he came up behind the Wing Zero pilot, and Heero did his best to cover his instinctive jump. 

Hilde should put a bell on that boy, he thought uncharitably. 

"Where's Hel?" Duo's voice was cold. 

"Sleeping," Heero said. 

"Already?" 

"She's exhausted." 

There was a creak as Duo sat down in the other pilot's seat. Heero didn't look over, turning to focus on the small computer screen at his right as he pulled up his folder of photographs and plugged in his camera. There were a few pictures he'd grabbed during the past few days, and he wanted to get them off the camera's memory drive. 

"Any reason she's so tired?" Duo's voice was neutral, but guarded. 

"She stayed up all night to write an article for Free Earth News," Heero told him. "Sent it off this morning." 

Behind him, Duo snorted and tapped several more keys before speaking. "Trey should be here in a few minutes." 

Heero didn't respond, and the silence dragged on as he reviewed the recent photographs. Behind him he could hear Duo's breathing soften and lengthen. Stealing a glance over his shoulder, he discovered the other man had fallen asleep in the chair. Curious, he turned, taking a better look. 

Duo's face was drawn, with pale circles under his eyes. His chestnut braid lay over his shoulder, across his chest, rising and falling with his even breathing. 

Heero was reminded of the boy he'd pulled out of the holding cell, that faint exhaustion tinged with tenacity. Later in the hospital, he'd watched Duo sleep. The Wing Zero pilot's mind had run in strange loops as he sat there, angry at Duo for getting caught, and upset that he'd not been able to prevent the whole thing. Duo didn't have his training, Duo didn't have his skills, Duo shouldn't be involved, his mind chanted. 

That's not true anymore, Heero reminded himself sternly, if it really ever was. Duo most certainly had the skills. No one of them could move so silently through unfamiliar corridors quite like the longhaired man, nor could they hack so easily into servers and take them down with a few keystrokes. 

Duo could hold his own, Heero thought, and wondered why he felt a twinge of disappointment at the realization. 

* * *

A half-hour had passed by the time Heero completed cataloging his photographs. Shutting down the upload program, he spun the pilot's seat and got up, trying to be as quiet as possible while he made himself some tea. There were groceries on the counter, and he busied himself for several minutes trying to figure out where they went and putting them all away. He didn't want Hilde waking up, and he didn't want to disturb Duo either. After his efforts of being quiet, it was with some annoyance that he heard shouting through the open cargo door. 

Stepping off the back ledge, he regarded the panic in the station bay with a worried expression. Absently he registered that it had been almost an hour and Trey hadn't arrived. His mug still in one hand, Heero strode forward and grabbed the nearest person. 

"What's going on?" he asked. 

"Hostages," the man replied, his breathing fast as he pulled his arm from Heero's grasp and headed on. 

Heero frowned and grabbed the next person running past him. 

"What's this about hostages?" Heero demanded. He didn't have time to be polite, he told himself. 

"The union's saying the company was sabotaging them, and they grabbed three mining managers while they were at lunch," the woman said. Her eyes were wide, and she struggled in his tight grip. "Let go, damn it, I've got to get to my ship. The whole place is turning upside down!" 

Heero let go, aware he'd probably left bruises on the woman's forearm. He hurried back to the ship, barely setting the mug down as he shouted at Duo. 

"What's the frequency?" 

"The what?" Duo sat up with a start, blinking at him. 

"To contact Trey! What's the frequency?" Heero dropped into the pilot's seat opposite Duo and stared at the controls with irritation. Which ones were for off-ship communication on protected comm. channels? He cursed the day he'd stopped keeping up with developing interstellar ship technology. 

"I'll do it," Duo replied, hitting a few buttons and opening a comm. link. Nothing happened, and the longhaired man swore under his breath. "Nothing. What's going on?" Duo continued to hit several buttons on the keyboard at his side. 

"Hostages," Heero told him. "Three mining managers taken at lunch by union guys. They're saying the company sabotaged the unionizing attempts." 

"And this is news?" Duo tone was sarcastic. There was a second of more rapid tapping, before Deathscythe's pilot slammed his fist down on the control panel and got to his feet. "Where's Hel?" 

"She's still sleeping." 

"Fucking-A, at a time like this," Duo swore, his footsteps heavy as he headed down the hallway to pound on the bunkroom door. "You'd better be decent, darling, we've got trouble," he hollered as he slid the door open. 

Heero waited, his ears picking up the faint traces of a conversation as his fingers flew across the pilot keyboard, focused on hacking into the asteroid's systems. A minute later Hilde appeared in the hallway with Duo, stumbling up the passageway as she wiped sleep from her eyes. 

"Gotta go after him," Duo was saying. 

"Day, you don't know yet," she said, cutting him off. "Wait until there's confirmation." 

"There's confirmation," Heero told them, turning in his seat to face them. "I got into the company's systems. There's a demand from the union that the company null the contract. Three men are listed as hostage, including a Trevor Barlow." 

"Fuck," Duo said. 

"Don't punch anything," Hilde warned. 

Duo dropped his fist and took a deep breath. "I'm going after him." 

"I'm coming with you," Heero replied, standing up. 

"No, you're not," the longhaired man snarled. "You stay here ― and stay out of my way." 

"You can't stop me." 

"Watch me." 

"Stop!" Hilde stepped between them, her eyes wide, then paused, waiting until both men stood down. "Hito, you stay here. Day, you go, but nothing fancy. Just get him and get back here." 

"I am _not_ staying here. I'm going." Heero glared at Hilde. 

"You'd only get in the way," Duo replied. His voice dropped to a low growl, barely audible above the shouting coming from the docking station. "It's for your own good." 

"Bastard," Heero hissed, tensing into a slight crouch. 

"Enough!" Hilde stepped between them again, her hands held out as though she could single-handedly hold the two of them apart. She chewed on her lower lip for a long minute, while the two men reluctantly let their eyes be drawn to her rather than continuing the staring competition. 

This is ridiculous, Heero berated himself. If Duo wants to go, I should let him. It's not my problem. I don't belong here. This is not my team. But the little voice inside his head was prodding him, aware that if he ever wanted to regain what he'd lost, there was only way to do that. Heero took a deep breath. 

"I left once," he said, his voice calm. "I won't do it again. I'm in this now, and that means I'm coming with you." 

Within a second of Duo's unenthusiastic nod, Hilde and Duo had sprung into action, Heero close behind them. In the meeting room Duo punched the underside of the desk ledge and it dropped open, revealing a cache of semi-automatic guns and a rack of ammunition. 

Heero balked momentarily, remembering his wish to never kill again. The Kimber 1911 Duo handed him was cold, heavy, and too familiar. His breathing hitched as he looked down at the gun in his palm. Beside him, Duo was loading a magazine. 

"Fire only in self-defense," Duo told him calmly. "We don't have mandate for killing." That distant smile had flashed onto his face the minute Hilde had nodded acceptance of Heero's statement. Back to business, it said. Duo held out his hand, showing Heero several small bombs. "Unless there's an accident, of course." 

Heero nodded and cocked the gun, shoving it into the back of his jeans under his over shirt. He snagged a second magazine, filled it, and tucked it into his front jeans pocket. The weight was oddly comforting. 

"Let's go," Duo barked. 

"Lead the way," Heero replied softly, and there was a pause for a half-second as Duo shot him a look. It wasn't the God of Death looking out of those eyes, Heero knew immediately. That half-second was purely Duo, acknowledging the other man, before the longhaired man's eyes were hooded again. The thought reassured Heero on some basic level. 

"You'd better remember it," Duo said, ducking to the side to kiss Hilde on the cheek as he past her. "Keep the engines warm, babe, we'll meet you in the outward bound lane in a half." 

"Comm. lines open," she hollered down the passageway as the two men headed out the cargo door. Duo raised his hand over his head, and the Gundam pilots were gone in the milling crowd. 

* * *

Duo ran swiftly through the crowd in the asteroid city's passageways, slipping and turning easily through the shoving people. Heero lagged a few feet behind. He wasn't out of breath; he just couldn't seem to move as fluidly through the pressing bodies as Duo. He barely managed to come to a stop when the shorter man halted. The union offices were ahead, and the two pilots were partially hidden behind a newsstand. 

"Start with the main office," Duo said. "Third level." 

Heero didn't reply, and was going to nod until he realized Duo hadn't even looked at him. The dark-haired man rolled his neck, allowed himself a small grin at the rush of endorphins flooding his system, and waited for Duo's lead. 

At a break in the crowd, Duo sprinted across the street and down an alleyway adjacent to the meeting building. Heero was right behind him, and ready to follow when Duo swung up onto the emergency steps going up between the structure and its neighbor. Any noise made by the two young men's progress on the metal grate stairs was thankfully covered by the population's noisy chaos. 

Heero wondered why he was surprised that Duo needed no directions. The thief had probably spent more time memorizing schematics and plans than the rest of them put together. 

The third door was easily unlocked. Heero's gun was already out, instinct and training kicking in after so long, and he covered Duo as the shorter man moved in. 

The man walking down the hallway had his head down over several papers, and Heero recognized him as one of the union's local organizers. High enough rank to possibly have some knowledge, and Heero grabbed the man, slamming him up against the wall. The papers fluttered to the floor. 

"Where are the hostages?" 

"Uh..." 

Heero slammed the man up against the wall again, while Duo stood at his back. The shorter man's eyes had darkened into that amethyst glint, and he tossed a grin over his shoulder at the union man. 

"Better answer," he said. "We're cranky today." 

Heero pulled the man towards him and shoved him back again. There was a loud crack, but the man's eyes only got wider and he swallowed convulsively. 

"They're in the back office on Level Two." 

"Day?" Heero asked, and punched the guy once, solidly, in the stomach. He went down without a sound. 

"Got it." Duo called, and pulled open a storage closet door. "Put him in here." 

A minute later the two were back down the stairs, and Duo was fiddling with the lock on the exterior door. They slipped back inside, falling instinctively into the protective formation they'd used so many times before: moving side-by-side, each turned a little towards the outside, ready to fight back-to-back if surprised. 

They paused at a corner; Heero waiting while Duo peeked. The longhaired man flashed a tight grin as he whispered to the Wing Zero pilot. "Four at the door." He pulled out a small object and cocked it. Stepping around the corner, he tossed it expertly in the opposite direction down the main corridor. 

Two heartbeats later the explosion radiated from the corridor to their left. Almost immediately three of the men were pounding in that direction so quickly they didn't notice Heero and Duo standing just around the corner. Heero was about to snag the men, but Duo held up his hand. 

Once the man had passed, Duo darted around the corner. Heero followed, his gun at the ready. In three long strides Duo was at the door, taking down the last guard with a flat-handed chop to the neck. 

"Day," Heero said. "Door's locked." 

"On it," Duo replied, kneeling down to jimmy the lock while Heero stood at his back. There was a click that echoed in the corridor under the sounds of shouting down the hallway. "We're in. Bring the sleeping guy." 

Heero dragged the guard in, dumping him unceremoniously on the floor as Duo headed straight for the three figures at the back of the office. Trowa was in the middle; one of the other men was Tom. Heero didn't recognize the third. By the time Heero straightened up, Duo had already slit the mechanic's tape holding Trowa and the third man. The dark-haired man freed Tom as Duo helped Trowa to his feet. 

"Status," Heero barked, to no one in particular. He was a little surprised when Tom answered. 

"Bruised, mostly," Tom said, and then gasped as he came to his feet. "In the ribs. Same for Mike and Trevor. Although Trevor got it worst. I know I heard stuff crack the last time they worked him over." 

Duo caught Heero's eye with a series of easily decoded quick hand gestures. _You carry him. I'm point._ At close range Heero could see Trowa's face was already turning into a mass of bruises, with a black eye and a swollen nose. His conservative shirt was ripped at the collar, and his right arm hung significantly lower than the left. Dislocated. Heero braced himself, grabbed Trowa's arm, and jerked it backwards and up. The joint slid back into place with an audible pop, and Tom paled. The third man swayed in place, his hands shaking. Trowa didn't make a sound. 

Heero slipped one arm around Trowa and pulled the taller man's arm over his shoulder. He briefly considered throwing Trowa over his shoulder, but decided against it. Carrying the man that way would aggravate any injuries to Trowa's torso, and possibly exacerbate any cracked ribs. 

"They found..." Trowa started to say, but his words faded with an inaudible groan as Heero shrugged him upright. 

"Shut up. We're leaving now," Duo snapped, and Heero was startled to see Trowa nod as his green eyes slid shut. The thief glanced at the two men standing a little behind Heero. "Keep your head down, your mouth shut, and follow my lead." 

Duo ducked out the door, and a second later waved for the four men to follow him, Heero and Trowa just behind him, Tom and the other man taking up the rear. The third man still hadn't spoken, his eyes glued on Trowa's battered form. 

The longhaired man led the procession through the warren of hallways, listening at corners before waving the group on. Though it had been a roundabout way, Heero finally recognized their original entrance up ahead. Trowa's weight was growing, indicating the taller man was losing consciousness. Heero gripped Trowa a little tighter around the waist and focused on watching the corridor in front of Duo. 

Two figures stepped out from a side hallway, guns at the ready. Heero automatically brought his own piece up. Duo had glanced behind him to check the group's status, and turned his head back quickly when he caught Heero's reaction. One of the men was aiming at Duo. He fired. 

Heero fired at the same instant. 

A splash of blood, a yell, and Duo had thrown himself forward, rolling on his shoulder as he came up under the second man's gun. Launching himself upright, he slammed into the guard's chest with his hand. The man was thrown backwards, hitting the floor with a solid thud. 

Duo glanced over at the second man, down with a bullet to his chest. Heero had switched target-point at the last second and shot for a non-fatal injury. The dark-haired man spared a moment to roll his eyes as Duo grinned at the fallen figure. 

"Almost there," Duo called over his shoulder, appearing oblivious to the blood pouring down his thigh. Heero's practiced eyes knew instantly the shot hadn't hit an artery. Even with Duo's obstinate strength, Heero thought darkly, the wound would still slow Duo down. 

Gritting his teeth, Heero half-dragged Trowa forward, thankful when Tom stepped forward to assist. Trowa groaned as Tom moved his injured arm. Behind them, the third man was shaking badly, his pupils dilated so far they were completely black. He was staring at the bodies in the hallway, unaware three of his companions were already out the emergency door. 

"Move, you idiot," Duo shouted, pushing the man forward and guiding him down the stairs. At the bottom of the steps, Duo shoved the man one last time, then turned to Tom. "Get him out of here." 

"What about Trevor?" Tom hesitated. 

Heero hefted Trowa up again. "We're fine. You just take care of him." He nodded to the man, standing in the alleyway behind them, his eyes unfocused. 

"Take care of him," Tom said to Heero. "He's a good guy, even if he did catch all the chicks." 

"We will," Heero replied. His lips twitched, amused at the idea of Trowa spending the week chasing skirts as part of his cover. Trowa groaned, his eyelids fluttering. "Stay awake, man, we're almost safe." Heero felt the taller man's nod, and was relieved as some of the weight came off his shoulders. 

Duo was already leading them through the crowd, his gun tucked away as he pushed past the people congregating around the union hall's entrance. There was a lot of shouting, and Heero caught some of it as they passed. 

"Why the hell is the building on fire?" He asked, not really expecting an answer. 

Duo tossed a rictus grin over his shoulder, and held up a small transmitter. "I set off the rest of Hel's gifts just before we left," he replied, tucking the small pad back into his pocket. "Hel, we're on our way," Duo said, his voice muffled as he spoke into the comm. on his shirt collar. 

Duo and his explosives...some things never change, Heero thought, amused. Steadying Trowa, he followed Duo's slim figure, watching the braid slap against Duo's belt, as the longhaired man led the way to the docking station. 

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, have a Thai pepper plant that still hasn't ripened. They're supposed to be red, but they're still all green. How much longer til I get to set my mouth on fire? 

Crimson: I don't know if the avatars will show up in person, which is why I gave them commentary time. And sometimes we can be really dense about simple things, which is why it made sense to me that something so straightforward – leaving – would be a huge issue and yet be hard to figure out because it is so basic. 

Nlp: I get the quotes from various places, but I listen to a wide variety of music. Most of the quotes have been from lyricists, but two are from poems. It depends on what works for the chapter; I don't like using a quote that could just as easily be said inside the body of the writing. It's got to add something. If you like, I can list all the quotes and sources when I'm done with the story, in the final author's notes. 

SilverCaladan: You get a cookie! :-) Yup, that's what happened. 

Kiya_Sama: (See note to SilverCaladan.) But Hilde's no more easy to figure out than anyone else, since her motivations aren't clear – more importantly, neither are her loyalties. But never fear, it will be explained (eventually)... 

Lainwyn: Silent Bob! Bwahahahaha. The hackers will be making an appearance in either the next chapter or the one after that. Depends on how much space is required for the next few steps between the asteroid belt and L2... 

With additional thanks and gratitude to Miss Conception, Shenlong, and calic0cat for their offline feedback. 


	14. and what art

**31 Jan 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

And what shoulder, and what art,  
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?  
And when thy heart began to beat,  
What dread hand? and what dread feet?  
― William Blake 

Following Duo, Heero's entire body was primed for impact. He scanned the crowds nervously, ready to pull his gun again at the slightest provocation. Heero narrowly avoided three schoolboys running to see the explosions still reverberating down the asteroid city's main avenue, clenching his teeth when Trowa moaned softly at the abrupt movement. He jumped when two Arab men barreled into him, backing away at his glare with deprecating gestures and fast chatter in a foreign tongue. The brunette with the infant in her arms was wise enough to get out of his way. 

Trowa managed to hang on, through it all, but kept his head down. The bruises on his face were turning purple-green, fortunately covered by the thick sheaf of brown hair. Heero figured the worst people would think was that Trowa was the victim of too much alcohol. Duo, limping ahead of them, turned at regular intervals. He spun in place as he trotted, checking on them, but never saying a word. 

The three pushed through the crowds in the station, heading for the outward lanes. Their ship was third in line. Outside of the docking station, the ship's rear door was six feet off the ground, its engine underbelly exposed as the bay tugs navigated the ship into its place in line. 

Duo clambered up onto the back ledge, hitting the keypad and leaping off again as the cargo door retracted up into the overhead cargo area. To Heero's eyes the longhaired man simply bounced down and back up, although he was only taking advantage of the station's lower gravity. Duo got his footing on the cargo floor and turned, holding out a hand. 

"Give me Trey," he commanded. 

Heero undid Trowa's arm from around his shoulder, and set his hands around Trowa's slim waist, lifting the taller man up easily. Duo got a hold of Trowa just as the ship lurched forward in line. To Heero's surprise, Duo immediately turned and put his hand back down. 

"Come on," Duo urged. "Enough sight-seeing for today." 

Duo's hand was firm, his grasp warm, his strength greater than Heero expected. Heero launched himself upwards at the same time and the combined force threw him into the cargo space right at Duo. Unable to catch himself, Heero found himself grinning suddenly at the sight of Duo pinwheeling his arms to keep from landing on Trowa. Without thinking, Heero grabbed Duo's wrists, yanking him close as the wide-eyed pilot blinked in surprise. 

"Idiot," Heero said affectionately, then froze as Duo's face shuttered coldly. The shorter man twisted away, breaking Heero's hold, and glanced down at Trowa, who was trying to get to his feet. They could hear yelling coming from the cockpit. 

"Shit," Duo said, and the awkward moment was past. The pilot's braid whipped past Heero as Duo turned, hitting the interior keypad with the combination. "Take care of Trey, and hold on tight. We're vacating the premises." 

* * *

Heero was settling Trowa into the lower bunk when the ship's engines kicked into life. The Wing Zero pilot stood up, about to get the medical supplies, when he was sent violently to his knees as the ship rose. He cursed at the sharp pain as his hands and knees hit the metal floor. The ship had lifted out of line and was propelling its way sluggishly forward; the oxygen in the enclosed station bay made it difficult for the fuel to reach the proper mixture. 

In the cockpit, Duo was yelling something to Hilde, who was yelling back at the same volume. Between the two of them, Heero couldn't make out a word. The ship lurched backwards, and Heero was thrown against the wall, scrambling immediately to his feet with a second fluent curse. 

Heero threw himself across the short space and latched onto the edge of the lower bunk, holding on tightly as the ship heaved a third time and jumped forward. The engines thrummed underneath. They were entering the airlock chamber, its red warning lights visible through the porthole. There was a scraping sound, screaming metal, and Heero realized whomever was piloting was trying to squeeze the ship into an area only big enough for one ship when another ship already occupied the space. 

Gritting his teeth, Heero debated offering his help in the cockpit or staying and making sure Trowa was okay. No, that small voice told him, no one can beat Duo when it comes to crazy piloting. Stay here and take care of Trowa. 

Almost as though able to hear his thoughts, the taller man stirred on the bed, his catlike eyes fluttering open. "What..." he started, hoarse. Trowa licked his lips, turning his head to the side to see Heero's face only inches from his. 

"We're leaving," Heero said flatly, as the ship jumped in place and he was pushed down with the force. A second later, the ship swayed to one side. It dropped with the shriek of metal slamming against metal. 

"It's normally a smoother ride," Trowa said, and Heero was amazed to see the other man's lips quirking into a slight smile. Before Heero could reply, Trowa's eyes had closed again as he slipped back into unconsciousness. 

Heero could see the lights blinking through the porthole, indicating the station's interior airlock doors were closing, and he took advantage of the momentary lull to get to his feet and head for the kitchen. He was pretty sure there had been a medical kit in one of the lower cabinets. Clutching the doorjambs in case Duo decided to make the ship dance some more, he realized the shouting was resolving itself into coherency. 

"Goddamn it, Hel, don't do that again," Duo was yelling. 

"Shut up and get those doors open," Hilde snapped. "They're breaking the lockout." 

"I'm on it, I'm on it," Duo said, his voice lower. "Get ready. Doors opening... _NOW!_" 

The ship shot forward, and Heero was glad of the warning, barely able to keep his feet in the hallway as he clung to the kitchen doorway. Biting back a yell of his own, he pulled himself upright against the drag and managed to get into the kitchen. The gravity field kicked in as they left the asteroid behind them. 

"Jamming all frequencies," Duo said. 

"Wipe the records while you're at it," Hilde ordered. 

The ship tilted, and Heero was thrown across the kitchen into the wall. Scowling at the inevitable bruises, Heero allowed himself a moment of regret for not insisting on piloting if Duo was going to be busy hacking the station systems. Women pilots. 

"Hel, let me do my job. I don't tell you how to pilot. Which, by the way, you're doing badly!" 

"I'm doing the best I can! It's like a minefield. Where did all these ships come from?" 

"Asteroid go boom. Everyone go home." From the tone, Duo was clearly grinning like a maniac. 

"Stupid lemmings." 

It sounded like Hilde was finding the situation equally funny. Heero rolled his eyes. They're not friends, he thought, they're frickin' twins separated at birth. 

The ship lurched again, swinging violently to the right and upwards as Hilde slammed the boosters. Heero spared a thought to hope Trowa was okay, then went back to dividing his attention between holding onto the kitchen cabinet bars and contemplating breaking Hilde's fingers, one by one. 

"Two ships on our tail," Duo reported. 

"Don't shoot them," Hilde warned. "I don't want to be chased all the way home." 

"Shit, give me some credit," Duo replied, his laughter suddenly echoing down the corridor. "Stealth mode, on." 

There was a pause, and Hilde started laughing as well as the ship settled down, the steady engine sound indicating their speed away from the asteroid. 

Heero straightened up, sighing as he flexed his muscles. He could feel the ache in his legs and shoulders as he knelt to open the lower cabinet, searching for the medical kit. His fingers froze in place when he heard the two pilots' conversation start up again. 

"You mad at me?" Hilde sounded a little worried. 

"I don't know." Duo's fingers were still at the keyboard. Heero could make out the sound of rapid tapping when Duo paused. 

"I'm still sorry." 

There was a long silence before Duo spoke. "I don't know what's going on." 

"That's because you're stupid," the girl teased. 

"Yeah, but I wasn't the one wearing three-inch heels." 

"Jealous?" 

Heero didn't need to hear it to know Duo must've given Hilde one of his patented innocent looks. Hilde's chuckle, floating down the hallway, told him everything. It occurred to Heero that Duo only used that look when he was actually guilty, and he paused for a minute to wonder what Duo was jealous about. Forgetting what he was doing for a minute, Heero's fingers bumped the medical kit, and he frowned as it fell from the cabinet onto the floor. The loud clatter resounded through the ship. Hilde's shout floated back to him. 

"Hito! You back there?" 

"Yeah," he replied, raising his voice so she could hear him. "Getting the medical kit for Trey." 

"How's he doing?" 

"Concussion, bruising, damaged shoulder," Heero reported, coming into the hallway with his arms full of the large box. "I don't know what else, yet." 

"Keep me informed," she said, her head appearing in the doorway as she turned, leaning over to see down the passageway. The girl winked at him, quickly, before her head disappeared. 

Heero grinned, and headed back for the bunk. Halfway down the hall, he stopped, half-turning so she could hear him. 

"When I'm done, I'll be relieving you," he informed the ship. "You still owe me that eighteen hours." 

"Aye, aye, Hito," came the drawled response. 

* * *

Trowa's damage was worse than he'd thought. Heero had started undressing the man when Trowa awoke long enough to inform him of an injured knee. Being stubborn must be a prerequisite for Gundam pilots, Heero thought, irritated as he carefully pulled off Trowa's dark pants to reveal a garish bruise spreading across the man's right knee. Someone had done a number on it, kicking the side of Trowa's leg hard enough to nearly pop out the kneecap. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, but it wasn't going to be able to take any weight for a few days. 

Taking a few minutes to dig around in the cargo bay, Heero came up with a two-foot piece of long scrap metal. Just like Duo, he thought, pleased. Always scraps; always keeping things just in case. For a thief who spent his adolescence traveling light, he always had an unbelievable store of spare parts on hand. 

Improvising, Heero wrapped Trowa's leg in a towel for padding and attached the splint, binding it in place with a bandage. Trowa was coming around again, and Heero took advantage of it to get Trowa to sit up so he could pull off the man's shirt. Settling Trowa against his shoulder, he did his best to wrap the taller man's chest and shoulder. Last, he returned the kit to the kitchen, returning shortly with an ice packet wrapped in a towel, which he placed against Trowa's face. 

"Here," he whispered. "You'll need this." 

Green eyes opened slowly, and Trowa smiled tightly. "Goes around, comes around," he replied softly. "Water?" 

"Coming around," Heero told him. Remembering how Quatre had held him so he could drink ― as a part of his mind recalled it was just after Trowa had saved his life by blocking Quatre's attack ― Heero settled in next to Trowa, supporting the man's neck and head with his arm as he helped Heavyarms' pilot drink the cool water. Several times Trowa paused, seeming to fade away, before he came to and motioned for the water again. When it was gone, Heero carefully laid the man back down again. 

"Rest," Heero said. "One of us will be back to check on you." He was at the door before he heard Trowa's whisper. 

"Hito... thanks for coming after me." 

Heero answered without turning around, uncertain what Trowa would think were he to see the fearful intensity in Heero's eyes. "You would have done the same." 

A heartbeat's pause, and Heero waited anxiously for the denial he was expecting. 

"Always..." came the soft reply. 

* * *

Heero had just returned the water glass to the kitchen when he heard Hilde's desperate shout. 

"_Day!_" 

Heero was in the cockpit almost instantly. Hilde was leaning over the thief, who was facedown on the control panel, his arms hanging down, his fingers lax. The blood from the bullet wound was pooling on the floor to his left. 

"He passed out," she exclaimed, looking up at Heero with anxious blue eyes. "Was he shot? Why is there blood everywhere?" Her expression darkened, and she slapped Duo's shoulder as she shouted at him. "Why the hell didn't you say anything? Damn you, you blistering idiot!" 

Duo shook himself, mumbling something as he tried to sit up. Heero stepped forward, pulling Duo's arm over his shoulder and bringing him to his feet swiftly. 

"Hel, you pilot," Heero told the distraught girl. "I'll deal with this. Then I'm coming back and _then_ you will finally get some sleep." A second later he'd thought of something else. "You could clean up the blood while you're waiting." 

"Damn both of you!" Hilde shouted, her hands on her hips as she watched the dark-haired man half-drag her best friend down the main passageway. "I _told_ you to be careful!" 

Heero ignored her frustrated cry, too intent on Duo's inaudible mumbling. He got the thief into the bunkroom and set him down on the edge of the lower bunk, steadying Duo as the young man swayed in place. Duo blinked, then groaned as Heero prodded the blood-soaked black jeans. 

The Wing Zero pilot sat back on his heels, relieved to find the exit wound. At least he wouldn't be digging a bullet out of muscle. There was no way he wanted to be doing that, not while Trowa was out cold and Hilde was needed to keep an eye on any irate asteroid residents still hunting them. He didn't want to drug Duo after losing so much blood, but he couldn't have held him down and dug into his thigh at the same time. Heero ran his hands through his hair as he considered the situation. 

"Stay here," Heero told the long-haired man. 

"Like I'm moving much," Duo muttered, then shrugged. "Yeah, whatever. Just shoot me and get it over with." 

"Shut up, idiot," Heero said. A minute later he'd returned with the medical kit again, popping the top open as he sat on the bed next to Duo. "If I'd shot you, I wouldn't have missed." 

"Neither would the other guy," Duo retorted dully. "But you had to go and shoot him, didn't you." 

"Habit," Heero replied, hiding the twitch of his lips by keeping his head down. Pulling out a pair of scissors, he paused over the hole with an almost apologetic glance at the other man. "Hope these aren't your favorite jeans." 

"I can always steal another pair," Duo said softly. His blue-purple eyes were glazed, and his fingers were clenching the bed sheets, prepared for the worst. 

"The bullet went through," Heero reported, relieved to see Duo's hands relax slightly. "Seems pretty clean, so I'll just wash it up and bandage it." 

"Gotcha...Hito." 

Heero paused, trying to remember if that was the first time Duo had actually used his name. Or, at least, he thought, what was passing for a name these days. 

Gingerly he took the jeans by the edge of the bullet hole and began cutting, up a few inches and then around Duo's thigh. He had to bend awkwardly at a few points to get the inseam, and then crouch down to cut underneath, but in a few minutes he was able to pull the separated jeans down far enough to get a better look at the wound. 

Setting down the scissors, he knelt at Duo's feet and removed the young man's boots and socks – one of which was thoroughly blood-stained – and then gently pulled the cut fabric down and off Duo's leg. Blood had soaked through the jeans and all the way down the leg. Heero paused for a second, the smell washing over him as memories flooded his system. His fingers were shaking, and he glanced up to see Duo staring at a point on the wall over his head. 

Ten minutes later Heero was done. He'd washed off the blood and bandaged the wound. Duo hadn't said another word except to grunt when the peroxide stung as Heero cleaned the wound. At several points he'd moved slightly under Heero's touch, and the dark-haired man had braced himself, ready to leave if Duo insisted he could take care of himself from there on. He certainly could have, Heero reminded himself. Hell, they'd all gotten proficient at dealing with injuries during the war. They'd certainly each gotten enough of them. 

But Duo didn't protest again, and Heero took advantage of the chance to be as gentle as possible, treating Duo's wounds with the same care he once gave printing negatives. No pushing, no prodding, just slowly and lightly setting the bandage in place without pressure. 

Heero sat back on his heels and studied the other man's bandage, satisfied to see no blood was seeping through. Now if only I can get him to keep from moving, it'll stay that way, he thought. He wasn't sure that was likely, but it was worth trying. 

"Day," he began, startled when Duo opened his eyes and trained that strange blue-purple gaze on him. "You lost a lot of blood. Lie down for awhile." 

"No," Duo said, tensing his arms as he slid his good leg under him. "Hel's exhausted. She should sleep. I'll sit with you." 

"Which part of 'lie down' did you not get?" Heero replied quietly, pushing Duo back down. It took little effort to overpower the already weak pilot, and he shifted Duo easily in place, swinging the pilot's legs up on the bed. 

"Stop," Duo protested. "I've got to..." 

"Was it the lie, or the down?" Heero continued as if Duo hadn't spoken. "Now, shut up and stay there or I _will_ shoot you." 

"Yeah, you've been saying that for years..." Duo's voice was whisper-soft as Heero pushed his shoulder down onto the pillow. 

"When I do shoot you, I won't miss," Heero informed him. Carefully he lifted the other man's legs long enough to pull the blankets out from under him, and draped them just as carefully over the half-awake man. 

"Promises, promises," Duo sighed, his eyes closing again. Heero waited for a minute, listening to the even breathing. His fingers were clenching, and he was pushing Duo's long bangs off a sweat-drenched forehead before he realized what he was doing. Heero snatched his fingers back as though they'd burned. He was puzzled to find he wanted to lean over and kiss Duo on the forehead. 

Where did that thought come from? Stupidly he stared at his fingers, wondering if they had suddenly taken on a life of their own. Relieved that Duo seemed to be asleep and unaware of his action, he quietly backed away, dimming the light as he left. 

Back in the cockpit, he grinned ruefully at Hilde. "I think he'll live," the dark-haired man told the girl, who smiled. 

"Thanks for cleaning him up," she said. "Blood. Gross." Hilde shuddered. "You're going to be washing a lot of towels when we get back," she added. 

"That's fine. Get some sleep," he said, sliding into the seat Duo had so recently vacated. It was still damp from Hilde's cleaning. 

"What about―" 

"Enough already," he snapped. "I let you stay awake a lot longer than I should have." 

"It's an eighteen hour flight, and it looks like it's just you and me." 

"Fine," Heero said, and relented, giving her a crooked smile as he reviewed the flight plan on the control panel. "I'll wake you in six hours." 

"Three." 

"Five." 

"Four." 

Heero sighed, deeply, as though infinitely patient, and Hilde giggled. "Four," he told her. "Now get." 

"Pushy, pushy," she said, her voice trailing down the corridor as she headed for her bunk. "If you don't wake me up, I'll kick your ass." 

"You're welcome to try," he called over his shoulder, and was gratified to hear her laugh. 

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, have a number of dirty dishes in the sink. Sue me, and that's about all you'll get. 

Lainwyn: I was thinking this part is OOC for Heero and then I realized... it's not, is it. It's OOC, in a way, for the reclusive person he's become – but if anyone were to do the whole 'take care of everyone else' routine, it'd be Heero. In comparison, I think Quatre would do it while worrying, but Heero would just do it. At least, IMO. Let me know if you read the original character differently... 

Aryl: There's hints and allegations throughout, but they're not going to make much sense to Heero at this point. That, and I get the feeling that actions will have more impact than words, although Heero's assertion in the last chapter went a long way. 

With additional thanks to SS and Miss Conception, for the offline feedback. 


	15. condition grounded

**31 Jan 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

A soul in tension that's learning to fly  
Condition grounded but determined to try  
Can't keep my eyes from the circling skies  
― David Gilmour 

Heero woke up to hear someone calling his name. A girl's soft, light voice. 

"Hito, Hito..." 

Groggy, he raised his head. He'd fallen asleep with his arms crossed, his head down. Heero rubbed the back of his aching neck and tried to focus. Hilde was sitting on the opposite seat, her hair still wet and standing out in all directions, but she was grinning widely. 

"Oh, look, sleeping beauty awakens." 

Heero blinked again, glancing over the controls with a practiced eye. Their route was still active, stealth mode long since off, the autopilot managing just as well without his intervention. "What happened?" 

"I woke up when the alarm went off," she said, in a tone that indicated the answer was obvious. "Four hours. Your turn to sleep...in a bed," she told him, leaning over to poke him the shoulder. 

He scowled, but it got mangled and came out more like a crooked half-smile. "I told you I'd come wake you up." 

"You can see how well that would've worked. Now it's my turn to tell you to get." 

"I should check on Day..." Heero stood up, stretching his shoulders. His muscles, still sore from being thrown around the ship, were now screaming thanks to four hours unmoving in the pilot's seat. "Damn." 

"What were you doing while we were taking off?" Hilde was staring at Heero's forehead, and he instinctively put a hand up to feel for a bruise. The dark-haired man winced as his fingers touched a tender spot. 

"Doing my best imitation of an ice cube in a martini shaker," he retorted. 

"Good thing you have a hard head," she said, leaning back as she propped her feet up on the control panel. "And don't check on Day. I've cleaned up enough blood for one week, thanks." 

"What?" Heero was immediately on alert. "Did the bandage―" 

"No, no," the girl replied, waving his words away as she cut him off. "He's fine. But he doesn't know your voice well enough. You're likely to find a knife through your gullet faster than you can holler hello." 

"So that's why," Heero said, softly. He didn't finish the sentence; she understood he was referring to the fact that she'd not shaken him awake. 

She nodded, then brightened. "He's okay anyway, bandage is still clean. I can't believe you left his jeans on him, though. They're filthy." 

Heero flushed, then scowled as he felt his face redden. "There wasn't any reason to cut them off. My priority was getting him to stop bleeding." 

"Unh-hunh," she said, and her tone was skeptical. Heero furrowed his brow, peering closely at her, but she merely gave him another Cheshire flash of a wide grin. "You check on Trey? How's his head doing?" 

"I woke him up once every hour. Last time was..." Heero glanced at the ship's clock. "Thirty-five minutes ago." 

"So you haven't been asleep that long?" 

"I wasn't asleep." 

"Oh?" 

Heero pretended to bristle. "I was resting my eyes." 

"Rest your eyes in your bunk, then. I'll wake you in six." Hilde turned her back on him, punching in a command to the ship's computer. A colorful window opened on the screen, and Heero frowned. 

"Three." 

"Four," Hilde cut him off with a chuckle. "I'll let you out of your cage and you can cook for us. Deal?" 

Heero grinned wryly, aware she could see him in the monitor's reflection. Rubbing his eyes again, he left the cockpit. Back in his room he checked Trowa quickly as he kicked off his boots. Then he pulled off his shirt and climbed into his bunk. 

He rolled over on his stomach and was instantly asleep. 

* * *

Heero was stir-frying the vegetables while Hilde leaned against the doorway. He'd quickly figured out that he would have to defend the stash of vegetables against her amateur thievery. 

She's not as quick as Duo, he thought, irked as he noticed another carrot piece disappearing from the countertop. But quick enough, he amended, glancing over at her. Hilde gave him a wide-eyed and innocent look. A second later she grinned, displaying the carrot between her even white teeth. He brandished the wooden spoon as though about to smack her. 

She pretended to duck, chuckling. 

"If everyone else goes hungry, I'm blaming you," he told her. 

"You could never make enough to feed Day completely," she said. She paused for a second, and he could hear the carrot crunching as she chewed. "Not bad." 

"It was raw." He glanced at the petite brunette leaning against the doorjamb. 

"Decently uncooked." She was smiling, pleased with herself. Her arms were crossed, and she looked for all the world like a miniature Duo as she taunted him. Hilde tossed her head to get her bangs out of her eyes. "By the way... have I mentioned lately that you're an idiot?" 

"Hunh?" Heero flipped off the heat and spooned the vegetables into a waiting dish. He decided to assume she was joking. "I didn't do anything." 

"That's the problem." 

Suddenly she didn't sound like she was joking, and Heero paused, uncertain. He ducked his head and made a show of checking the rice carefully before spooning it into four waiting bowls. 

"About time," she said, as she took two of the bowls from him, opening her fingers to allow him to slide the chopsticks between the bowls and her palms. "Woman cannot live on raw carrots alone." 

He stared at the two other bowls as she left for her bunk. It was a second later before he shook himself, picking up the bowl for Trowa. The metal was warm against his fingers from the rice, and he let it soak into his palm as he collected a set of chopsticks for the Heavyarms pilot. 

Just when I think I have her figured out, he griped silently, she goes and confuses me all over again. He filed the thought away as one more thing to consider once he had some privacy. 

* * *

Heero woke up six hours later to the sound of a raised voice in the hallway. Climbing down from the bunk, he noticed Trowa was gone. He pulled a clean shirt over his head and stepped into the hallway. 

The tall man was leaning against the ship's wall, his weight on his good leg, and his head was down. Hilde was between him and the cockpit, and despite being almost a foot shorter she was in the pilot's face, clearly aggravated. 

"―stubborn I could throttle you," she was saying. "Now turn around and get back to bed. You have a concussion!" 

"I'm fine," came the soft reply. 

"You look like you got hit with an ugly stick," the girl retorted. "Can you even see out of that eye?" She waved her hand in front of his face. 

Heero was surprised to see Trowa didn't smack her hand away like the dark-haired man was expecting. Silently he came up behind the two, his eyebrows raised. 

"There is no way you're piloting," Hilde announced. "You try it, you won't like what happens." 

"Oh?" 

Heero could see Trowa's amusement clearly as he came alongside the two. Hilde didn't seem to notice, her expression indignant. Her eyes were wide in fury. 

"Yeah!" She paused, thought for a second, and then exploded again with another poke to Trowa's chest, pushing him back a half step. "You'll be eating _my_ cooking on the next three jobs." 

"Trey, I'm awake now. I can take over," Heero interjected. "Hel, you were supposed to wake me so you could sleep some more." 

"I slept enough," she barked, her anger overflowing into her answer to Heero. 

"Then go play video games. Let Trey kick your ass just like he always kicks Day's." 

There was a long pause, and Trowa nodded, limping forward and slipping into the meeting room without a word. Hilde turned to watch him, then grinned widely at Heero, and winked. 

Thanks, she mouthed. 

He gave her a half-smile and a shrug, and went to take the pilot's seat. 

* * *

Heero was at the controls when they came in sight of L2. Day appeared behind him, limping a little, and looking pale, but stubbornly insisted on taking over. When Hilde appeared beside him, apparently agreeable to Day's piloting, Heero did his best to gracefully retire. 

Waiting on his bunk, re-reading his two magazines for the fifth time, he listened to the sounds of the airlock vents, and smiled grimly as the bay tugs locked onto the ship's belly. Two missions down, one more to go before the jinx was broken. 

He wondered if that even mattered anymore. The crew seemed to have accepted him ― to some limited degree, at least ― but he was no closer to understanding what the three of them were doing working for the syndicate. And he wasn't entirely certain he knew why he was still there, other than a strange sense of loyalty. He just wished he knew what he was helping with. 

Heero sighed as he heard Hilde enter the bunkroom. "Are you ever going to knock?" He asked without turning to look. 

"Not planning on it," she said, and hauled herself up to rest her chin on his mattress, only a few inches from his face. "Got something I need you to do. If you can't, I need to know now so I can...make arrangements." 

Heero sat up, leaned over, and took Hilde under her arms. In a single move he'd lifted her up to sit on the bunk next to him. She giggled as he set her down, and shook her head. 

"I could've gotten up myself," she said. 

"Faster this way. So what's going on?" 

"Our job report," the girl said, her green eyes suddenly sliding away from his. Heero noticed a light flush coloring her cheeks as she explained. "I've encoded a romchip with our logs, and now it has to be delivered. At the same time, you'd be picking up another one." 

"Ah." Heero nodded, focusing on the ripped knees in his black jeans. Got to buy more clothes while I'm on L2, he thought. Right now I've only got overlong hand-me-downs, office clothes, and a pair of beaten-up black jeans. Startled at his mind's wandering, he shook himself and turned to Hilde, who had been watching him carefully. "You mean...trade with Jeet." 

"That's right." 

The Wing Zero pilot contemplated the task. He'd done it once, and so far Trowa hadn't said a thing, or even let on that he was aware it had been another pilot he'd kissed. But kissing Jeet? Heero rolled the image around in his head, didn't find it particularly unappetizing, and finally shrugged. "Sure." 

"Sure...as in, you'll do it?" Hilde's eyes were wide. "If it bothers you..." she added, letting the question trail off. 

"No," he said, surprised to discover it was the truth. 

"That's a relief," she said, but her relief seemed to be on a far greater magnitude than the situation required, and he shot her a suspicious look. 

What's she thinking, he asked himself. She looks like Duo does when he's plotting something. He pulled himself back to focus on her as she chatted lightly, hopping off the top bunk gracefully. 

"You can take Trey's bike. It's in the storage unit 718 at the docking station. Keys are in the kitchen, top drawer on the left as you walk in. Trey can't ride, obviously, and even if Day says he can ride I'm not going to believe him. Besides, he needs to fix the plumbing. Bathroom's leaking again, and we're losing recycling capabilities..." The door slid shut behind her. 

Heero grinned and shook his head, hopping off the bunk to get his socks and shoes. Kissing Jeet. No big deal, he told himself. Just pretend like you're kissing someone you want to kiss. 

The thought made him stop cold in the middle of pulling on a sock. 

Who would I rather be kissing? 

* * *

Five minutes later he was in the passageway, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the lower lighting Hilde preferred when the ship was docked. The girl was trotting towards him, one of her hands in a fist as she chewed her lower lip pensively. Heero raised an eyebrow at her. 

"Hito," she started, and then stopped, giving him a dubious look. "Are you sure? Because if you're not...the kind of person who..." The girl blushed furiously, her eyes not meeting his. 

Heero grinned, suddenly. He couldn't help himself. "It's okay. Now give me the romchip and let me get on with it." He jangled the keys in his right hand. 

"Alright," she said, relief showing on her face, and she dropped the chip in his outstretched left hand. "Don't lose that!" 

He rolled his eyes as she headed back to the cockpit, waving a hand over her shoulder. She turned at the cockpit doorway to holler down the corridor. "We'll ship out in a week, I think. Give those two morons a chance to recuperate. See you then." 

"Not if I see you first," he replied good-naturedly, jumping slightly as the other bunkroom door slid open. Duo was standing there, and Heero felt his mission mask drop into place at the thief's narrowed gaze. When Duo didn't say anything, Heero frowned. "What?" 

"Hel told me." Duo's voice was strangely flat. 

"Told you..." Heero realized, and shrugged. "Yeah, well, part of the job, I guess." 

"You sure?" 

Heero scowled. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?" 

"Just figured you wouldn't know what you're doing." Duo's gaze never left Heero's eyes, and Heero could feel the hair standing up on the back of his neck. 

"I know how it works," Heero replied, annoyed enough to blurt out the rest of his words without thinking. "Or are you giving lessons?" 

Duo froze, and one eyebrow slowly went up. 

As if on autopilot, Heero tucked the bike keys away, and pluck the romchip from his left hand, his eyes never leaving Duo's. With exaggerated leisure Heero raised the romchip to his face. The dark-haired man could feel his jaw go slack, and opened his mouth just far enough for the very tip of his tongue to peek out. Setting the romchip on his tongue, he raised his eyebrows, his mouth still open. 

In the low lights, Duo's eyes seemed to blaze. 

Heero's breathing sounded loud in his ears in the tense silence as he held his mouth open. The air was cool against his tongue. Saliva was gathering in his mouth and he fought the urge to swallow and risk swallowing the chip as well. The Wing Zero pilot couldn't move. He was pinned by Duo's gaze, which traveled from his eyes, slowly, down to his lips. Prickles went up Heero's arms, and he nearly shivered. 

The dark-haired man watched, fascinated, as Duo's own tongue darted out, as if tasting the air before disappearing again. 

"Hito!" 

The shout came from the cockpit. Heero jumped to face the sound, barely catching himself from biting down and swallowing the romchip. There was a whoosh from beside him as Hilde strode towards him. 

"Are you moving or did you need an escort?" She stopped by the kitchen door, her head cocked at him in annoyance. 

"I'm―" Heero stopped, spit out the romchip, and tried again. "I'm leaving now." 

"Good," she said as she stepped into the kitchen. Heero frowned, taking a deep breath to get his heart to stop thrumming, before he looked back. Duo was gone, and the door to his bunkroom was closed. 

Heero rubbed the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly before heading out. His heart wouldn't stop pounding, and it felt like the world was about to swallow him up if he didn't get some fresh air. Stepping into the pre-dawn station bay, he cursed his stupidity. He'd finally made progress with regaining Duo's friendship, and he had to go and taunt the man. What had possessed him, anyway? 

Back to square one, he thought, miserable. 

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, five red Thai peppers I just picked today. La, la, we'll be eating tonight and saying, zhei ge wanfan la! ;-) 

Aryl: I've done a rare gem? Woo, and may I add, hoo! Never fear, we're working our way towards Duo. Slowly but surely he's about to start coming out of that shell... 

Crimson: Well, the answer is: not gonna say yet. Bwahaha. Actually, I was going to tackle that in this chapter, but realized that Lainwyn's critique was accurate: the crew's been careful about personal stuff while on board, so broaching the topic would be unexpected. I think Duo's and Hilde's is roundabout enough, but Hilde explaining her reason for being angry required too much information. Unlike Duo, Heero can't read between the lines because he doesn't know the context. So that conversation is being saved for sometime in the next two chapters. 

Sawdust monster: Ah-hah, another woodworker? Anyway, very glad you're enjoying it – it's turning out to be a great deal of fun to write! 

ShenLong: hey, plots is whats we is about, over here. Duo's gonna, uh... I don't know. You decide what you think Duo's gonna do once you've read this most recent chapter. I'm thinking bloodshed, for any of a variety of reasons – directed at one or more people at the same time! 

Lainwyn: Trowa's really starting to grow on me. He's such a tabula rasa in many ways, but I keep remembering his response to Heero's comment about stuff hurting like hell – told me that Trowa's got a sense of humor that's very close to Heero's. Besides, Heero and Trowa always seemed to click on some level. If anyone would of the other four would forgive him the soonest, I think it'd actually be Trowa. 


	16. the greatest of teachers

**31 Jan 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

and the greatest of teachers won't hesitate  
to leave you there, by yourself,  
chained to fate  
― Ed Kowalczyk 

Heero pulled the bike up to the curb a block away from Enny's corner, his stomach twisted into knots. Now that he was actually facing the reality of dealing with Jeet, he wasn't so sure his earlier cockiness had been well-placed. 

The kid's a whore, he thought, disgusted. 

Shaking his head at his own stubborn pride, he popped the romchip back into his mouth and gunned the engine. When he came around the corner, Jeet was waiting for him. 

Heero pulled up, letting the engine idle as he stared at the blue-haired kid. Jeet had his arms crossed, and was glaring at the Wing Zero pilot with barely masked loathing. 

"You again," the kid spat, and then yelped. Enny had just smacked him in the back of the head. 

"Hey, Hito," she said as she waved casually and walked back to the crowd of girls clustered on the sidewalk. Heero grunted, letting his gaze return to Jeet's scowl. The pilot let mission mode take over, and he met the boy's gaze with an equally strong glare. He was pleased to see the boy take a half step backwards. 

"Get over here," Heero growled. Get over here, he thought, before I spit this out and risk everything by breaking the rules and palming it instead. What's at stake, anyway, that small voice pestered, and Heero squashed it down angrily. 

A half-second later Jeet was straddling the engine, his head tilted as his lips pressed up against Heero's. Startled, the pilot paused to get his bearings, and then he opened his mouth to Jeet's prying tongue. 

The sensation was startling. Heero could only close his eyes as Jeet's tongue met him, swirling and pushing and tasting. Absently Heero wondered how one of his hands ended up on the back of Jeet's head, the other on the boy's hip, pulling him closer. Jeet didn't seem to be in any rush to exchange the romchip, either, but content to suck on Heero's tongue, pulling away long enough to nibble on Heero's lower lip before plunging his tongue back into Heero's mouth. 

The press of groin against groin was making Heero's head spin, and he was already hard as Jeet grabbed his hips, slipping one hand inside Heero's shirt to press against the small of his back. Almost angrily Heero pushed back in turn, sucking on Jeet's lower lip, and was pleased to hear the boy bite back a moan. His heart was pounding, and his fingers dug into the boy's ass, yanking him even closer as the kiss deepened. Heero's gut was shifting and flipping as his body melted in a hot fire of sudden need. 

This isn't who you want to be kissing, the small voice whispered. 

Cold water drenched his veins at the realization, and he shoved the romchip into Jeet's mouth, aggressively seeking the second chip. His right hand let go of Jeet's hip long enough to dig in his own pocket for the twenty-five credits, and he quickly tucked it into Jeet's back pocket. The kid murmured something through his lips, but Heero swallowed the sound. There was a heartbeat's pause as they each froze, a temporary truce and then the new romchip was pressed into the pilot's mouth, tucked up behind his teeth. 

Heero bit down, closing his lips firmly, and shoved the kid backwards. Tucking the romchip between his gum and his cheek, he glared. Jeet's face was flushed, his eyes glazed, his lips swollen. The kid blinked once or twice, then scrambled off the bike, confused. 

"I'll come back when you're a better kisser," Heero snapped. He gunned the engine and pulled away without a backwards glance. 

* * *

At the station bay Heero parked the bike, but it was several more minutes before he could unwrap his legs from the motorcycle's belly. His whole body was shaking. He stared at his open palms. He could still feel the coarse hair running under his hand, and Jeet's firm ass against his clawing fingers. Heero concentrated, but the flashing sensations were flooding his system, and his jeans were still impossibly tight. Calm down, he told himself sternly, or it's all going to be really obvious. 

What will be obvious? That I enjoyed it? 

Heero bent over until his head was resting on the handlebars, and choked back a groan. The position put more pressure on his aching cock, pressed between his body and the gas tank, but he couldn't move, didn't want to move. 

What was the point of insulting Jeet, anyway? Covering for bruised pride, the little voice taunted. He's a whore, and you liked it. And even more, you nearly let him know. Heero wasn't sure which was worse, and he groaned out loud after all when his mind actually started trying to imagine kissing ― Heero shoved the thought away, fighting to regain his composure. 

The dark-haired man closed his eyes, breathing slowly through his nose, obdurately ignoring the urge to find someplace private and jerk off until he could see stars. See stars again, he amended, helplessly acknowledging he'd been seeing them since Jeet first pushed up against him. 

No. That's not true, the voice murmured. 

He sighed, his fingers loosening as he let the tension drain from his shoulders, down his arms, out his fingers as though dripping water onto the storage unit's floor. He'd been seeing stars since he saw Duo's tongue flicker out and back in again, since he'd seen those wide indigo eyes studying the romchip poised on his tongue. 

Heero slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes with the back of his knuckles. This wasn't the way things were supposed to happen. Almost unwillingly he found himself smiling a little at the silent statement, given that he had no clue of anything that was going on. He certainly wasn't in a position to determine what constituted just another day on the job. With that strangely reassuring thought planted in the forefront of his awareness, Heero pushed himself off the bike. He tucked the keys in his pocket, spat out the romchip, and squared his shoulders, pasting a neutral expression on his face as he headed for the ship. 

Hilde was waiting at the ship's back door, and Heero nearly sagged in relief. He didn't think he was up to Trowa, let alone Duo. 

"Hito!" She was perched on the back step, her leather pants and black shirt soaking up the light. There was a leather jacket laying next to her. "Drive me somewhere?" 

"What about―" Heero didn't finish his sentence. 

"Gimme kiss," she ordered. Heero blushed deep red, scowling, and she laughed hysterically. "Just kidding," she told him, jumping down and putting her arm around him. Her nimble fingers slipped into his jacket pocket and were gone just as quickly. "Let me get my stuff and then you can take me into town." 

Nodding, he waited as she dashed into the ship. She was soon back, a grin on her face as she grabbed the leather jacket. Taking Heero by the elbow, she dragged him back to the storage unit, waving and yelling greetings as they passed other people in the docking station. Heero kept alongside her, glaring at nothing in particular. 

Great, he thought. Now I'm a taxi service, too. 

* * *

It turned out Hilde wanted a ride to Pop's bar. She slid off the back as Heero locked the motorcycle, taking him by the elbow again as they entered the bar. Once inside, she steered him to a secluded corner and sat him down across from her. 

"How are you doing?" The girl's eyebrows were raised, but her voice was soft. Heero furrowed his brow at the question and shrugged noncommittally. "Beer?" When he nodded, she waved two fingers at the bartender. 

They were both quiet for a moment as the bartender brought two beers to the table. Hilde waited until Terry had left before she turned her blue eyes on Heero. 

"Do you like me?" 

It wasn't even close to what Heero was expecting, and he counted to ten before he thought his answer could sound neutral. The serious look in her eyes worried him. 

"Yes," he said, drawing the word out. 

"How much?" The girl's gaze dropped away from him. She turned her head to stare steadily across the room, as though something at the bar was fascinating. 

Heero absently scratched his neck and thought about how to answer. "A bit, I guess," he said. "You're okay." 

"Just okay!" Hilde snickered, her gaze returning to his face. "But that's it?" 

"I guess..." 

"Good." 

"Hunh?" Heero's brow was wrinkled, his blue eyes confused. "I don't understand." 

"I told you you're an idiot," she said, tossing her head to get her bangs out of her eyes. "I just wanted to check. The way you danced, after all..." She let the implications hang in the air. The only change in her bright expression was the sudden tightness around her smile. 

"Oh." Heero remembered his beer and stalled for time by taking a long swig. "I haven't danced...in a long time." 

"You're good at it." 

He ducked his head, uncertain as to what he was supposed to say, and made a show of staring at the label on the bottle. 

"Did you know, when we were dancing," she continued nonchalantly. "You were two steps away from getting your ass pummeled all the way back to L2." 

"What?" Heero glanced up, irritated. She'd already slapped him. How often did she have to get on his case before her honor had been properly defended? 

She must have read the expression in his eyes, because she shrugged lazily and glanced back across the bar, not quite meeting his eyes. "Day can be... protective." 

"I think it runs in the family," Heero replied, his lips quirking. 

Hilde grinned, but the expression faded almost instantly as she spoke. "And don't you ever forget it," she said, her voice suddenly low and serious as she cradled her beer between her hands. "My loyalties are squarely in Day's corner. What hurts him...hurts me." 

He nodded, again lost as Hilde abruptly stood up, giving him another Cheshire flash of a wicked grin. 

"Glad we had this chat, Hito," she announced, leaning over the table until she was nearly nose-to-nose with him. "You hurry up and figure things out, and you might be surprised how well everything could turn out." 

Heero could only stare as she tossed her jacket over her shoulder and strode from the bar. 

* * *

He had remained in his seat, and had almost finished off his beer when Pops arrived. Spying the dark-haired man sitting at the side table, Pops beckoned Heero over with a grin. 

"I heard you got in early this morning," the older man said. "Come on back. As long as you're awake, you can tell me all about it." 

Heero followed Pops to the back office, settling down into the familiar seat. Pops already had a cigarette lit, and he studied Heero for several long minutes. The young man stared back, his face impassive. Finally, Pops grinned. 

"So you're getting to be friends with Hel," the man said. 

"She's a good leader," Heero said, choosing his words carefully. 

"She's a crazy girl who needs to get laid," Pops said with a snort as he stabbed the cigarette into an overflowing ashtray on the desk. "Any chance of that?" 

"Not as long as Day's around." 

"Figures," the man said, still grinning. "So that's what they were arguing about?" 

"What?" Heero kept his face perfectly calm. 

"Don't give me that," the older man replied, the smile suddenly replaced with an icy stare rivaling Heero's. "We picked up too many noises in the kitchen for it to be random clutter. You heard them, and I'm curious about your take on it." 

"We danced at a club while on the job," Heero replied, his tone bland. "Perhaps she was worried he'd kill me for the presumption." 

"He would, and could, too," Pops said, the grin reappearing. "Heard you threatening to shoot him. Too bad he was too far out of it to respond. Would've liked to hear what he might've said to that!" 

Wouldn't you, Heero thought, suddenly relieved the listening devices had limits. Either the bugs couldn't pick up barest whispers, or the guy was playing him along. Steeling himself, Heero simply half-shrugged, a subtle movement. 

Pops was still grinning, but something in his eyes shifted. "What do you think of Trey?" 

"Strong. Very good at what he does," Heero answered. "Bad luck he wasn't needed in his role, though." 

"Any ideas of how he was caught?" 

Heero shook his head. "Lucky break on the union's part," he finally offered. 

"Probably," Pops said, seeming to think it over. "Some stunt you folks pulled, getting everyone out of there." 

"Hn." 

"Any reason you weren't the pilot?" 

"Wasn't up to me." 

Pops leaned over and dug through several stacks of paper lying on the desk. Finding the one he wanted, he read it over for several minutes before setting it down and studying Heero carefully. "You could've done it just fine," he said. "Without the hysterics, I'd bet." 

Heero's expression didn't change. 

"I had a little research done, and it seems you've had an interesting life, Hito Young." Pops tapped his finger on the paper. "With OZ until the Alliance fiasco, moved to the Treize faction, and ended up programming mobile doll units for the Barton Foundation. Pretty impressive for someone who was probably only, what, fifteen? Sixteen?" 

Heero narrowed his eyes involuntarily at the information, as a part of his brain went into overdrive. Hito Young didn't exist until the photographer had opened his mouth and created the name barely two weeks before. Where did this come from? Who had the time and ability to put it there? And why? 

Pops interpreted the reaction differently, to Heero's relief. The older man winked, leaning back as he lit another cigarette. 

"No reason to be ashamed," he lectured the young man. "Programming, piloting, and reportedly an unparalleled ability when it comes to hand-to-hand combat. Not surprising you've flunked college twice. I imagine peace is hard on you, after experiences like that." 

Heero did his best not to blink, and succeeded. That small voice in his mind was screaming indignantly. He'd graduated with top honors, damn it. Breathing through his nose, the Wing Zero pilot kept his voice low as he spoke. "What's your point?" 

"Just wanted to let you know that we're aware of why you fit in so well," Pops told him in voice that was probably supposed to be soothing. "And we're also aware that our... business is your only chance. In this pacifist era, the minute someone knows you fought at that level..." Pops shrugged. "Hard to get a decent job." 

Slowly, Heero nodded. 

"Basically, we know you can hold your own. You're a soldier, and that means your take on this group of... crazies, as they're affectionately called... Well, let's just say your perspective has gained a great deal of credibility." 

Heero bit back the questions bubbling in his mind, and waited. 

"And there's your work so far," Pops added in a conversational tone. "You're far more creative than the last three jerks we placed. No one was surprised to see the team take to you so quickly, what with Hel being so unconventional herself." 

"It's what I do," Heero said, and shrugged. 

"Yeah, I've gathered that. This is the deal," Pops said, and then took a long drag before continuing. "There're some questions about this Trey. Few records of his childhood. Then he shows up as a low-level soldier during the Eve Wars. Spent time being a test pilot for OZ. Then he disappears completely for two years and shows back up in the system as a mercenary in some third-world country back on Earth." 

There was a long silence, as Pops stared at his cigarette. Finally his gaze shifted back to Heero. 

"Hel's a good kid. I knew her fiancé, and he was one of the best. She was a wreck when she got the news," Pops said. It was clear his sorrow was sincere, and Heero's brows came down in concentration as the man spoke. "There were a lot of rumors about what happened, and some folks said he'd turned sides...traded information to a competitor. Maybe he did, but Hel never believed it. Her foster father was in the syndicate, over on L5, before it was blown up." 

"I heard about that," Heero said. 

"That's war," Pops commented dryly. "But I suppose you know that. Anyway, after we lost Joe...Hel heard the rumors. I'd never met her before, but she has that way of just getting to you, and before you know it, you like her..." Pops paused, and shook his head, cutting off that line of conversation. "Hel was adamant. Here every day, arguing for a month before word came down that she was in. She was taking over Joe's ship, and his business. Brought along her brother." 

"Day." 

"Right. And then Trey joined. He's never done anything to make us suspicious, but that gap in his history has my bosses a little worried. We've been hoping to find someone like you, who knows the importance of a mission but could also...click with the man." 

"I wouldn't say we clicked," Heero answered. 

"Don't lie to me, kid," Pops warned. "I heard it real-time. You did a good job taking care of him, and he clearly warmed to you. He's been hard to crack." 

"And you want me to be the nutcracker." 

"For starters," Pops said, the grin back on his face. "But if you could get Hel... Who wouldn't want a minx like that?" 

Heero raised his eyebrows at the man. Pops grinned even wider, his eyes glinting in the office's single overhead light. 

"Consider it a perk," Pops told the dark-haired man, and laughed at Heero's flat expression. "Anyway, I'm sure you'll be wanting to get some sleep, after all that arguing the two of you did about who'd be sleeping when. And by the way, enjoy the next job. I hear it's supposed to be a real doozy." 

Pops waved his cigarette at Heero in a dismissive motion, and Heero nodded once more before heading back to his table in the bar. 

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, own a butterfly bush that's fallen over completely. In a few minutes I shall go practice elementary garden bondage and tie the damn thing to a stake. 

SilverCaladan: Being in pain and about to pass out can be a wonderful way to get someone to relax. Not that I recommend it for anyone you're trying to warm up to! But yes, the walls are slowly coming down... And no, not china, pottery. ;-) 

CinC: Are we reading different stories? (Just kidding.) Heero does recognize jealousy, although it's jealousy of the relationship between Duo and Hilde, and wanting that for himself. I don't think he's the kind of person to say "instead of" (ie, Duo love Hilde less), he's more a "including" (ie, love me too). Until this past two chapters, I don't think it had really occurred to Heero that his feelings had any sexual tones to them; mostly he's just been struggling to regain the friendship they once had. Lastly, you're right to some extent; Heero's been acting impulsively because he doesn't have the luxury or time or information to figure out what's going on. It's putting him seriously off-balance. And I think Enny realized a great deal more than you gave her credit for, what with all those leading comments... 

Dyna: It's okay, I'm not rushing... But the next one or two chapters is gonna spike the meters on tension, so guess I'd better get to writing. If I'm gonna take a week's break, might as well do it with a really GOOD cliffhanger... Bwahahah. 

Nlp: I'll do the authors notes at some point. I'm thinking I'll do a few commentaries, since those are much easier to churn out. So much fun. Oh, the story. Right. Yes, I think Heero realizing he had to stand up for himself (and stop being a leaf tossed about in a sea of non-information) was the beginning of the turning point. But then, it's really hard to tell until it's all hindsight, and the story's not done yet... 

With additional thanks and endless gratitude to Kiya Sama, who was gracious enough to beta this chapter, and to Dyna Dee, who relieved my fears about how the Duo/Heero interaction came across. Whew, and thanks y'll! ;-) 


	17. provided by the enemy

**31 Jan 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

To secure ourselves against defeat   
lies in our own hands,  
but the opportunity of defeating the enemy  
is provided by the enemy himself.  
― Sun Tzu 

Heero settled himself in the chair and wiped his palms on his jeans before setting his fingers on the keyboard in front of him. It had been nearly a week since he'd contacted the hackers; they should have something by now. Quickly he traced his way through the system, eventually spoofing a random ISP and logging into the forum. 

"Wing here," he said. Pinky, Snake, and Rat were present, along with some of the other avatars he only vaguely recognized. "Any word?" 

"Lots of words," Rat said as the anonymous smiley-face became a dove's wing. "You're coming from L2 again," he added. "Some net café dive." 

Heero ignored the leading statement. "The news?" 

"Where should we start?" Pinky asked. There was a pause, and Snake's avatar wiggled its tail, volunteering. 

"Romchips were created as information storage. They're tiny rewritable CDs, encased in plastic. Require a specific reader and programmer. Can carry major encryption programs as part of the hardware." 

"I could have read that on a web page," Heero commented. 

"But what the web pages won't tell you is that every romchip has, somewhere in its base formatting, a serial number. These numbers are tracked by the corporations making the chips." 

"Which means..." Heero let the question hang, and Snake's avatar wiggled again. 

"If you can get one, we can track the serial number to its origin. Then, from there, we can work forwards to figure out what batch it was in, and where it would have been shipped. Not much more than that, unfortunately, but at least you'd know who put it into circulation and where." 

"Good enough for now. I'll see if I can get my hands on a chip and we can give that a shot. Next?" 

"I got information on who's paying the bills on L1," Pinky typed. The pigtails on the avatar bounced. "Remember that Preventers guy? The money's coming from an account in his name." 

"Wufei Chang?" 

"That's the one. But it's not his normal account." 

"What do you mean?" Heero leaned forward in the seat, intent. 

"The account was opened the day before you left for L2, about two weeks ago. Since then, it's sent out five transfers, for electricity, cable, gas, water, and rent. But it's also gotten two transfers in, from two different accounts." 

"Get anything on those accounts?" 

"Yeah. The first transfer was from a personal checking account based on Earth, in London. Under the name of Quatre Raberba Winner." 

Heero froze over the keyboard as a smile slowly grew across his face. This wasn't surprising, but it was nice to get confirmation. 

"Wing?" Pinky typed, and Heero realized a full minute had passed. 

"I'm here. You said two accounts. What was the other one?" 

"An account in Switzerland. Enough money to pay the bills, by my calculation, for another six months. That was two days after the account was opened, and since then, no incoming activity. And no, I couldn't get any information on the originating account. That bank is locked up tight." 

Mike came pounding into the room, his hand avatar waving violently. "I just got the email! Is he still here? Wing? That you?" 

"Yeah," Heero replied dryly. 

"Oh, man, have I got news for you! Say, can we still get answers for everything we find?" 

"I don't see why not. Save them for later, though." 

"I've got a whole list," the Hand said as he settled down. The avatar finally stopped waving frantically. 

"First, what did you find?" 

"Transfers from the Maxwell Church account to an account in Switzerland. Some bank with a crazy Swiss name. Or German." 

"What about them?" Heero frowned. Duo was transferring money to a protected account. In comparison, the L2 banks were safe from theft, even if they were permeable to anyone with the skills to get in and simply observe. 

"They're for two credits, three credits. Two or three times a month, for the past seven months. A wire transfer costs fifteen credits." 

"That's a sign," Rat interjected. 

"So we looked into it more. Snappy found it, actually. He went back and got the full logs." 

The blue star avatar waved one of its points. 

"And?" Heero was starting to get impatient with the kid, and bit his tongue to keep from growling at the computer monitor. 

"It's not money that's going out. It's files, piggybacked on the transfer." 

The room was completely silent. Rat's avatar waved its whiskers. Pinky and Snake didn't say anything, but both were still. Stunned. 

Rosie spoke up. "When did you figure this out?" 

"This morning," Mike replied smugly. "We wanted to save the surprise." 

He gave the room the bird, and Rat promptly kicked him. The hand avatar reappeared a split second later, waving wildly. Heero, at the keyboard, laughed out loud, then quieted as he noticed the cashier girl giving him a strange look. He smiled at her, and ducked his head again. 

"So what are in the files?" 

"We've decoded the headers so far. The algorithm is different for each section." 

"Hand them over to the room and we'll each take a part," Rat ordered. 

"Okay..." Mike's avatar drooped. 

"You still get the credit," Pinky chided. "Geez, kid." 

"What was in the headers?" Heero pressed. 

"I have it right here. Okay. It says: sentto ― 1069566- 61003 – 1060105819 - sandrock = winner. com@ returns. install. 04. com. Received: from thebe. nexus. com 147. 186. 44. 26 by carlin. mail. l2. spacelink. net with ESMTP id 19U4X17F19Nl3p81. Received: from 77. 218. 66. 159 by n15. ytr. scd. winner. com with NNFMP; 10 Oct 17:50:20 –0000." 

Heero blinked at the long range of codes. "Looks like something from mail." 

"Right," Mike replied. "Every bank transfer uses a series of headers very similar. This was a halfway point, so there's no acknowledgement that the transfer reached the last bank, but at least we know where it was headed." 

"Unfortunately, if that's the Winner corporation, it'll be impossible," Pinky interrupted. "That company is huge. Like, monstrous." 

"Gargantuan," Snake suggested. 

"I get the picture," Heero typed. His dove wing waved at the room. "But I know where it was headed." 

"Oh." Mike's avatar bounced for a second. "I was right! It is another Gundam pilot!" 

"Makes sense to me." Rat's avatar smirked. "Find one, the rest will be around somewhere." 

"Like bad pennies," Pinky said. 

"You pink wierdo, it's birds of a feather," Snake retorted. 

"Shut up, slinky." 

"Get to figuring out the rest of that file, or as much as you can," Heero ordered. "Rat? Any success on your mission?" 

"Some," Rat replied. "Rosie and I have been combing the track bot logs. We got one of the more recent ones, and one of the older ones. The one uploaded two weeks ago has an origin signature of 1069566 – 61003 - 1060105819." 

"And that's who?" Heero pushed. "How do you decode that string?" 

"You don't," Rat sighed. "They're applied as DSNs are granted, so just because you got a number doesn't mean the next person alphabetically would get the next in line." 

"Unless you can find the number elsewhere," Mike typed. The room was quiet for a moment as each avatar stared at the hand. "Like... in the scroll above." 

"H-O-L-Y-S-H-I-T," Pinky typed. 

"So Sandrock uploaded it directly from his own logon," Heero stated. 

"Looks like it," Rat said. "Damn, Mike, you're almost becoming useful." 

"Yeah, you'd better believe it," the Hand replied, but mellowed the comment by wiggling the avatar's fingers. 

"Anything on the other track bot?" Heero asked. 

"It's got an origin signature of 1503262 – 5886 - 1061189867. I don't think we'll get lucky enough to stumble across that one right away. But we'll keep our eyes open for it." 

"Good," the photographer typed. "Were the bots accessed regularly?" 

"Nope," Rat said. "The server relay Sandrock accessed reports three uploads in two months, but we don't know what those previous files were. They might not have even been track bots." 

"Like what?" 

"Files that just happened to go through that server, like if Sandrock's uploading files to a web site," Rat explained. 

Heero nodded, thinking for a few seconds before he started typing. "So right now the missions stand as: Rat and Rosie are parsing the track bot uploads. Pinky and Allie, start working on that unknown account." 

"Can we call in favors?" Pinky asked. 

"What do you mean?" 

"I know a few people that might be able to help." 

"Can you trust them?" Heero frowned at the monitor. It was bad enough he had seven hackers digging through the Gundam pilot's personal accounts. He wasn't sure he wanted to get more involved. Secrecy becomes more of an issue, the more people it's multiplied by, he reminded himself. 

"Absolutely," Pinky said. "One of them's my brother." 

"In that case there's no way we'd let him in," Snake said. "He'll blackmail you into the next century once he's in." 

"Shut up," Pinky said. "He does that, I'll beat him up." 

"Alright, Pink," Heero said, calling the room back to attention. "Do what you have to, but the less information you give out, the better. I don't want anyone getting involved that isn't absolutely necessary." 

"Yes, sir!" Pinky replied, bouncing the avatar's pigtails. 

Heero smirked, then grew serious again as he reviewed the tasks. "Last, Mike and Snappy are working on decoding those headers, with Rat helping. Snake, I want you on that as well." 

"What about the romchip?" Snake asked. 

"Until I get a serial number, there's nothing else to do, and I'd rather have your breaking skills applied to a file than wasted." Besides, Heero told himself, the difficulty of tracking purchases might be the reason for the track bot message that said 'Romchip no go.' If this was Duo and Quatre working together, what if Quatre had already attempted the same tactic? 

Heero shifted in the seat. The hard plastic was making his butt fall asleep, and he spared a quick thought of torturing whoever purchased the chairs for the net café. 

"That everything?" Heero looked around at the quiet avatars. Some were waving, others simply sitting quietly. "Alright, then. I'll be back on in the next day or two. After that I may have to ship out for a month or so." 

"The two-week rule still apply?" The rat avatar shook its white frisbee. 

"For the time being, but that may change. I'll keep you posted. Wing out." 

Heero signed off, watching the windows scroll as he cleaned the cache. Every time he found more information, the result was always the same: a single question remained. 

Why? 

* * *

"Heartbreaker!" 

The yell came from behind Heero, and he spun on the sidewalk, bringing his hands up instinctively in a defensive posture. A second later he registered it was Enny. She'd jumped backwards at the same point, out of his fists' range, and had both her hands up in surrender. She was grinning. 

"What now?" Heero scowled and turned his back on her. Unfortunately, as far as he was concerned, she didn't take the hint, but ran to catch up with him. 

"You've got Jeet all hurt and stuff," she teased. 

Heero glanced sideways, his expression icy. 

"Okay, not entirely true," she amended, her good mood unfazed. "Just one of his fists. That boy can throw a conniption fit like nobody's business!" 

"I'm busy," Heero growled. He lengthened his stride. 

"I can see that. Walking can take a lot out of you." 

Heero stopped and turned to face her. "What do you want?" 

"Just your company." Enny peered into his face. "And I think you need a drink. I heard Terry's got some whiskey in." Heero's eyes must have involuntarily widened, because Enny smirked. "Thought so." 

Ten minutes later they were back in Pops' bar, with Enny ensconced next to Heero. The dark-haired man had seated himself so his back was to the wall, and he was doing his best to ignore Enny's chatter. 

"Latest gossip has it Terry's been seeing some chick on the side," she was saying. "You saw Dee, right? One of my girls?" 

When Heero just shrugged, Enny rolled her eyes. 

"Come on, Hito, what's going on? You nearly did a tonsillectomy on Jeet, then you insult him, and now you're all sulky." Enny leaned closer, and Heero did his best to lean away. "I think you're figuring stuff out." Her voice was softly triumphant. 

"Really." Heero's voice was flat, and he stared at his empty whiskey glass. 

Enny's voice dropped to barely a whisper. "And I think you're having a lot of trouble with it." 

Heero's gaze didn't move from the glass. Carefully he studied the watermarks on the rim, and wondered whether it was hand-washed or if Pops bothered with buying a real dishwasher. 

"Ah," Enny breathed into his ear. "Talk to me, Hito. I won't tell anyone, and it might do you some good." 

"No," Heero replied, shaking his head slightly. "I've...got to figure this out on my own." 

"Well, don't take forever with it," Enny said, patting him on the arm good-naturedly. "By the time you make up your mind, it could be too late." 

"Maybe that wouldn't be so bad," he said, the words almost dragged out of him by some perverse need for conversation. 

"For you, or the person who's waiting?" 

"No one's waiting." Heero's frown grew even deeper, and he resisted the urge to slouch in the seat. His hands were fists in his lap. 

"Relax," she said. Heero started when she surrounded his right hand with her cold hands, pulling it out of his lap to her knee. Carefully she pried the fingers open until she could put her palm against his. It was a strangely comforting gesture, and Heero found the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. 

"Things are getting out," she told him, her eyes trained on Terry, over at the bar. 

Anyone looking would have thought they were sitting too close together, possibly holding hands, maybe even a couple. But Heero's cold expression and Enny's thoughtful stare would have contradicted the conclusion. Heero slowly turned to look at Enny, taking in her green hair, and that garish orange-pink lipstick. Her teeth were stained yellow from too many cigarettes. 

"I heard you've gotten a little closer to your boss than most folks might think is good for an employee," she murmured. 

"You're the second person today who's suggested that," he growled, and thought of yanking his hand away. But now Enny was petting the back of his hand, softly, repeatedly, and it was rather... soothing. 

"I bet Pops was the first," she said, and smiled sweetly when he nodded. "He likes Hel, wants her to find someone nice and settle down so she'll stop making his life miserable. He's got this whole protect the little woman vibe going on." 

"She doesn't need his protection." 

"You know that, I know that. Shit, everyone knows that but Pops. But seems to me you're just making friends so you can get close to someone else." Enny smiled, and this time the look was tinged with sadness. 

"That's...not true," Heero said, then swallowed hard. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Enny nodding to the bartender, and he shut his eyes for several seconds before speaking again. "We already...cleared that up." 

"That's good." 

There was a clunk, and Heero opened his eyes to see the whiskey bottle set in front of him. Terry was already heading back to the bar, threading his way through the early afternoon crowd. Enny poured a shot, threw it back, poured a second, and pushed it towards Heero. Her left hand remained in her lap, cradling his. 

Heero took the shot, wincing as the harsh liquid hit the back of his throat. He blinked twice and set the glass down. Enny immediately refilled it and pushed it back to him. He paused, gave her a skeptical look, and downed the drink. 

"Now," she stated, obviously settling in as she poured another shot. "Hel knows you're not interested, is that it?" 

"Yeah." His voice already sounded fuzzy. 

"And does she know who you do like?" 

"I...don't know." He drank the shot. 

"Do you know who you like?" 

Numb, Heero nodded. 

"That's a start. Does this person like you back?" The whiskey bottle gurgled as the glass was filled for the fifth time. 

Slowly Heero shook his head, then downed the drink. 

"Ah." Enny's voice was soft. "Where are you staying?" 

Surprised, Heero raised his head to look at the girl again. His eyes narrowed. "I'm not sleeping with you." 

"What?" Her eyes went wide, and then she giggled. "Please, I'm not about to sleep with you. You think I'm suicidal?" 

"Sui-what?" The dark-haired man stared suspiciously at the glass. Maybe she'd drugged it. Then he counted, and that small voice said something about five shots in fifteen minutes. 

"You're so off-limits, it's not even funny," Enny was saying. Her voice faded out for a second, and then came back, loud and clear. "You staying in that hotel down the street?" 

Heero shrugged, then stopped. The room was spinning. 

"Good. We'll take a cab, and I'll get you checked in." 

There was a pause, and Heero felt himself come to his feet. He was pretty sure he was on his feet, although he couldn't really feel his nose, or his hands, or his knees. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and gathered his energy to glare at Enny. She flinched slightly, so he was certain he'd managed the look. 

"Calm down," she told him. "You needed to get drunk like nobody's business." 

The dark-haired man pondered her statement for a second, then nodded, pulling himself together long enough to stride angrily from the bar. Enny followed, shocked, just behind him. Once outside, he stopped, and swayed lightly from the sudden halt. Enny was already at his side and hailing a cab. 

"I'll get you to bed." 

"It's four in the afternoon," he told her, surprised his mind was able to calculate the passage of time since he'd last looked at a clock. 

"Four-fifteen," she amended, and grinned. "You could use the sleep, away from everyone else. Sleep, by the way, without beating yourself up over mistakes that weren't really mistakes to anyone but you." 

Before Heero could protest, Enny had tucked him into the cab and taken him to the nearest cheap hotel. Twenty minutes later she'd laid him down on the lumpy mattress, pulled off his boots, and draped the thin blanket over him. Grinning at his slack jaws and the light snores, the green haired pimp left his shoes by the bed and let herself out, locking the door behind her. 

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, have a chair with a permanent indent from my ass, thanks to doing nothing but writing all day today. And I've still got to churn out a chapter of Into These Hills before I think I could really let myself relax for the next week... *sigh* 

Actually, I have to confess I wasn't expecting Enny to get Heero drunk, and I'm still not sure why she did it, but it just seemed right... so that's how it ended up. Cheap therapy, I suppose. Or something... We'll have to see. 

Aryl: there'll be action, soon enough... maybe in the next chapter. We'll see if I'm up for writing that tonight. I'm not sure, although it's pushing at my brain, because that might be a mean way to leave the cliff-hanger... then again, I am Evil Incarnate™... 

Lainwyn: Boy, if you suspected Jeet/Heero might be an interesting informational exchange, I can't wait to hear what you have to say about chapter 17! And, of course, there's bound to be a backlash. The Trowa/Heero combination is one I've always found interesting, since of the pilots, those two clicked nearly as quickly as Duo and Quatre. I suppose that's why the four are usually mixed the way they are, as they provide fire and flash where the friendship pairings are of people too much like each other to be passionate. And Quatre, Wufei, and Relena aren't sitting around doing nothing, but for the sake of the story they're in the background for a few more chapters. And when they do make an appearance... but I'm not saying! ;-) 

I know I'm not really giving anyone a chance to respond and reply as quickly as I'm putting these out, but I guess once I get on a roll... just ask the poor folks who tried to keep up with Creek. Now they're paying the price by waiting for Hills. Man, I'm so bad. 

Bad writer, no spellchecker! 


	18. after such knowledge

**01 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

After such knowledge, what forgiveness? Think now  
History has many cunning passages, contrived corridors  
And issues, deceives with whispering ambitions  
Guides us by vanities.  
― T.S. Eliot 

Heero woke up at mid-morning. He stared at the ceiling for several minutes, letting the previous day creep into his awareness. 

Damn that girl, he thought, and rubbed his pounding temples. I haven't drunk alcohol that fast since university. Even cheap whiskey, it's still a waste. He glanced over at the dim clock on the bedside table. Eight standard time: fifteen hours straight. Heero let his head fall back on the pillow for a minute, his lips quirking. I must have been more exhausted then I'd realized. I'm getting old. The thought made him smile outright. His team leader couldn't argue him to sleep but a green-haired pimp managed with only a half-bottle of whiskey. Heero snorted and sat up. 

The first thing he did after sitting up was to throw back the covers. 

Fully dressed, he registered with some relief. Groaning at the rocks rolling around in his skull with every movement, he staggered to the bathroom. He spent several minutes with his head in the sink, trying to drink straight from the tap. Finally he stood up, yanked off his dirty clothes, and turned on the shower. 

Thirty minutes later he didn't think he could get any cleaner or wetter. He'd used nearly the entire hotel shampoo bottle, repeatedly, and scrubbed several times. The soap was worn down to a sliver and the shampoo was gone before he started to feel like the past few days had faded. 

Climbing out of the shower, Heero paused at the bathroom mirror, wiping the steam away only to find his dark blue eyes staring at him. Transfixed, he leaned closer, studying the way his iris melded from darkest blue at the rim, to a lighter sapphire in the middle. There were flecks of silver in the iris that he'd never noticed before. 

Stepping back, he could see his face, down his chest, to his waist, reflected in the mirror. There was faint stubble on his chin. Water was beading on his chest, and he ran a hand down his body, wiping the water away as he felt the muscles still hiding under his skin. 

I was fifteen once, he thought. Was it really only six years since I fell to Earth? His body was no longer as lean ― skinny, he corrected himself ― and he was taller, a shade broader in the shoulder, tightly muscled on a slender frame. He ran a hand back up his chest, ghosting his palm across a nipple and frowning at the sensation. 

I can count on one hand the number of partners I've had in the bedroom, he thought. I can count on one hand the number of times I've had sex, he added, and the memory filled him with an implacable sadness. Each time, he'd been drunk, and a girl was conveniently there, or some well-intentioned classmate had shoved the girl towards him. It all came to the same thing. Sex, scrabbling out of clothes, ill-placed kisses that were more alcohol than saliva, random movements and a too-momentary blindness that quickly shifted to disgust. 

Heero ran his hand down his ribs, across his stomach, to his hip. His skin was golden, but losing its sun-kissed color after two months away from Earth. Heero's fingers were tensed and flat. His palm hovered just above the surface of his skin. 

I can't remember what it was like. I can't remember caring enough to pay attention. All working parts were in order, he considered wryly. That much I know. Insert Tab A into Slot B. Even drunk, nature knows its course. The problem wasn't really sex, even if he knew on some level it wasn't supposed to be so clinically boring. The problem was that he couldn't stand to sleep in contact with anyone, and only one girl had stayed after he'd gotten up to sleep in his computer chair. Even she had left the next day, never to speak to him again. 

Like he cared. The realization struck him, and he froze, unable to meet his own eyes in the reflection. He had felt bad at the time, as if feeling bad were an obligation. He'd never dealt well with shirking obligations, but he couldn't talk to them. Not after sex. Not after they'd each seen him at his most vulnerable. 

The dark-haired man stared at his reflection, still not meeting his own eyes, watching his hand come back into the frame. His hair was sticking up, water droplets poised on every tip as the hair hung in his face. His blue eyes darkened as his hand dropped out of the frame again, slipping between his legs to cup his soft cock against his palm. 

What does it mean to be in love, he wondered. What does it mean to be in love with a real person, he amended. Reluctantly he let his hand drop, ignoring the first flush of arousal prickling along his body. The sensation was pleasant, but hollow. Heero closed his eyes and leaned against the damp bathroom wall. 

I don't want just sex, he sighed. I want someone who isn't afraid of me. I want someone who isn't afraid to touch me. I want someone who will be there in the morning. I want someone who won't leave just because I don't know what to say. 

Heero turned off the bathroom light as he dried himself and got dressed, no longer willing to let the mirror remind him of his existence. 

* * *

At noon Heero made his way downstairs, confirming his room for a second night. Once out on the street he headed for a local bodega, picking up razors, shaving cream, cheap socks, two pulp novels, a six pack of beer, and two sandwiches. 

Back in his room an hour later, Heero stripped off the shirt, kicked off his shoes and socks and lay across the bed on his stomach. Nibbling on the first sandwich, he propped the book up on the pillow and began reading. 

By midnight he'd finished both books, polished off the last of the beer, and had only crumpled-up wax paper remaining from his meals. Bored, he stared at the headboard for a while before leaning over and shutting off the light. 

* * *

Heero woke at dawn the next morning, and slowly sat up, frowning as he realized he'd shared the bed with two books, crumpled sandwich wrappers, and six empty bottles. Running a hand through his hair, he took another shower. He scuffed his chin before deciding to shave, reluctant to stare at himself for too long. 

His head clearer, he pulled on the black jeans and dug through the bedside table's drawers. There was a set of grubby stationary, probably dating from before the war. Not too many literate people staying in hotels these days, he thought, amused. He was gratified to find a ballpoint pen in one of the dresser draws, and he chewed on the end pensively as he lay back down on the bed. 

Enough avoidance, he told himself, and began to write. 

His script was angular, but light strokes as if by a hand more familiar with brush work. Absently he wished he'd had his favorite fountain pen with him, the one he used for signing prints. Heero shook his head and focused on the task, letting the words resolve themselves back into meaning. 

Quatre and Wufei were handling his accounts on L1. 

Heero pondered that statement. So many things were hiding behind that obvious fact. Wufei was in school, and with the Preventers. He hardly had the money to pay for Heero's expenses, so it wasn't surprising that the ever-generous Quatre would insist on the honors. Wufei, though, must have opted to take responsibility for the disbursal. Something was niggling at Heero's brain, and he paused to run back through everything the hackers had said. 

When he realized it, he stared hard at the stationary as if accusing it personally. 

_The account was opened the day before you left for L2..._

The day before. Heero frowned, tapping the pen against the paper. Relena had said Quatre was aware of Heero's attempts to find Duo and Trowa. What if Quatre and Wufei had assumed that the photographer would go after them? 

Wouldn't that mean they'd known he'd find information to send him to L2? How could they know he'd contact the hackers, or that he'd have the resources or skills at Quatre's disposal? 

Heero paused, deciding to jot down a few basic assumptions. 

1. They planned for me to find a lead.  
2. They were counting on my response. 

If anyone would know him well, it would only be the other Gundam pilots. But how did Quatre know he'd find the lead? It was purely chance that Mike had stumbled on the information, and it was only through Pinky's original lead that Mike had even had the thought in the first place. 

Could Quatre have been aware of the hackers' digging? 

Heero pondered the question. When he'd first met the hackers, they'd requested Wing Zero's unlock codes. Other than himself, only Zechs and Quatre would have known them. Trowa and Wufei had used the system, but neither had access to the codes. Duo had also dealt with Wing Zero, but that was against his will, and he didn't lock or unlock the system. It was forced on him. That left only Quatre and Zechs, and the older man was on Mars, and out of touch, from what Relena had said at dinner. 

What if Quatre was Snappy's contact? 

The thought made ice cubes form in Heero's stomach. Had Quatre made comments that prompted the hackers to dig for information that just happened to be something that would make Heero run off to L2? Why? Why not just say, this is the situation? Why wouldn't Quatre have told him? 

Heero recalled absently that Trowa and Quatre had parted ways badly, a fact which obviously still upset Wufei. Heero doubted Wufei could have been lying. The Chinese warrior was too direct, too abrupt to be devious. 

It was making Heero's head hurt again. He leaned back against the headboard and held the paper up in front of his face. Placing it on his knee, he carefully wrote down another sentence. 

Hilde is acting on behalf of her dead fiancé. 

Nothing about that seemed right. For starters, he was pretty certain Hilde was of Germanic descent. What would her father possibly be doing on L5 – a colony of predominantly Chinese cultural history – let alone doing on L5 when it was self-destructed? Most of the archaic colony had been abandoned by that point, thanks to the Alliance's plans to destroy it anyway. The only people left were the thousand or so in Wufei's own clan. What would a non-Chinese syndicate member be doing there? 

The fact that the syndicate thought Hilde and Duo were brother and sister was sending out warning signals. He knew that was a complete lie. But what could get Hilde involved, let alone Duo? Wouldn't she have been glad to get out, to get away from a life that had killed someone she loved? 

It doesn't make sense, Heero grumbled silently. Duo's the kind of person to talk a friend out of such stupidity. The guy was stubborn, relatively untrained, and always acted completely against the grain of being a soldier, but he at least had a strong sense of self-preservation. Heero could see himself going along with Hilde, if she were a comrade, simply because his life had never been worth enough to really stop and worry about consequences as long as the objective was achieved. But Duo questioned things like that all the time. 

That was back then, Heero reminded himself. Things can change. People change. Frustrated, he doodled on the edge of the paper and let his thoughts drift. Something Enny had said slowly floated to the surface, and he dutifully wrote it down. 

_They take the riskiest jobs..._

Heero resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall in hopes of dislodging something that would make sense. Think logically, he told himself, and started a second list of assumptions. 

1. The riskiest jobs are taken by those with little to lose.  
2. A risky job, done successfully, gets the most notice. 

If Hilde's team were trying to move up in the syndicate, then it'd take only those jobs with the greatest risk. The kinds of jobs most sane people would shy away from, like taking on an interstellar worker's union on a desolate asteroid surrounded by five thousand people who probably wouldn't be happy about being manipulated. And, Heero noted wryly, doing it with a team of four people. 

Duo is sending files to a bank account in Switzerland. 

If the track bots are Quatre's way of sending messages, then Duo must be responding via the piggybacked files. But what would he be sending? Wufei's anger stuck in Heero's head, and he scowled at his notes. It didn't make sense, unless Quatre and Duo were working together and Wufei was ignorant of the situation. But that would require Trowa being ignorant, or playing along in a pretend argument. And even Trowa, the penultimate chameleon, was never the kind to hurt a friend. From the way Wufei had acted at their meeting, he was clearly still hurting over something. 

Heero sighed and let the papers fall to his lap. The one burning question under all of it was still the simplest, the one that had bothered him from the beginning. 

Why wouldn't anyone tell him what was going on? Why wouldn't they include him? Why didn't they trust him with whatever they knew? 

Heero dropped the pen and took the paper in both hands, folding it four times before beginning to carefully and systematically shred it. When the pieces were no larger than his thumbnail, he got up and flushed them down the toilet. Returning to the bed, he lay down, his fingers interlocked behind his head as he stared at the grimy ceiling. 

If they hadn't told him, it was because something made them decide not to. And the only person that he knew for certain hadn't wanted him around, from the beginning, was Duo. 

* * *

He was still pondering the endless loops of disjointed information when he heard a knock at the door. Heero sighed, pulling himself upright to swing his legs over the bed. More dealing with Enny, he complained silently, and shook his head. The girl had it in for him. 

The knock wasn't repeated, and Heero stopped in the act of reaching for his shirt, wondering whether Enny had decided to give up and leave. There was a soft click, and Heero looked up to see Duo crossing the threshold and shutting the door behind him. 

"You should really lock your door," the young man told him. His smile didn't reach his eyes, and the look sent chills up Heero's spine. He knew that expression all too well. Heero slowly retracted his arm, tensing his body as he sat on the edge of the bed. 

"It was locked," Heero said, in a deceptively calm tone. 

"Strange, it opened just fine," Duo replied, and dropped something on the floor. It sat in the middle of the small room, a black duffel bag. Heero frowned, puzzled, and his gaze traveled from it back to Duo. 

The longhaired man's braid was over his shoulder, trailing down his chest, over his crossed arms. His jeans and shirt were black, and he was wearing a long wool coat, warm enough for the colony's winter. Of course, Heero observed, it had to be black. The unrelenting darkness looked good on Shinigami. Always had. 

"What's that?" Heero finally asked, once he'd found his voice again. He didn't move from his spot on the edge of the bed. 

"Your stuff." 

"It was fine where it was." 

"No." Duo strolled over to the single window, pushing up a slat to peer through the blinds, down to the street below. "You might as well take it with you." 

"Take it where?" Heero didn't turn his head, letting only his eyes move as he watched the other man's movements. 

"Back to wherever you came from, of course," Duo said. It was that familiar tone that sounded amiable if you didn't know him, Heero thought. It sounded like death if you did. 

"Why?" 

"Because you're fired," Duo replied, turning to regard Heero coolly. He flipped the braid behind him absently and leaned against the wall, one hip higher than the other. A casual movement, but even when so nonchalant Duo was constantly in motion, although less frenetic than when he was younger. 

Heero couldn't find his voice for a second, but when he did, he found his fury at the same time. He came to his feet in a smooth movement, spitting his words at the thief, coldly furious. "Fired? I've done everything Hel wanted, and more. If she doesn't want me here, she can tell me that herself." 

Duo didn't flinch. 

The dark-haired man paused, watching Deathscythe's pilot for a long minute. Heero's eyes narrowed as he realized what he'd forgotten. His voice was detached as he tested his impromptu theory. "Does Hel want me gone?" 

The other man didn't answer. 

"Does Trey want me gone?" 

Duo's gaze was steady, but he still didn't speak. Heero chuckled, a low sound, and was gratified to see a flash of irritation across Duo's face. 

"You still can't lie," Heero whispered. 

"Maybe," Duo answered, his icy smile already back in place as he regarded Heero standing over the black bag. "But you still don't belong here. Go back now, before it's too late, and you're stuck." 

Heero stared down at the bag, then turned to face Duo. 

"I said I'm staying, and I meant it." 

"You're leaving." Duo took a step forward, but Heero held his ground. Duo's voice had dropped to a lower register, nothing like his cheerful mockery on the battlefield, but the smile was still in place. Heero allowed a heartbeat to admire the lethal grace as the other pilot stalked towards him. 

"You're going to take your stuff..." Duo moved again, and Heero belatedly realized Duo was within arm's length. Fighting distance. 

"And you're going to go to the docking station..." Duo glided closer. Heero unwillingly stepped back to avoid the longhaired man. 

"And you're going to buy a ticket..." Duo took another step. 

Heero stumbled backwards just in time to avoid the other man's touch. The dark-haired man's face was set in a deep scowl, but his eyes were wide and uncertain. Struggling to regain his composure, Heero breathed slowly through his nose, his hands clenching into fists at his side. 

"And you're going to take a shuttle..." Duo stepped closer just as Heero's next backwards step made him hit the wall. 

"And you're going to go _home_." Duo didn't punctuate the last statement with another advance, but merely leaned into Heero until their faces were only a hand's length apart. In his bare feet, against Duo in boots, their height was nearly even, with Duo's lips just an inch below Heero's. 

Duo's face was tilted upwards a degree, his eyes a dark purple, his expression deadly pale and serious despite the taunting smile. But his chestnut bangs were falling across his face, as tangled as when he was only a teenager suspended on the brink of adulthood. The disheveled bangs softened his appearance, and the shadows on his face were sweetened by the contrast. 

Heero realized he was holding his breath, and let it out slowly. 

"What if I refuse?" Heero asked, barely able to put any force behind the words. He could smell Duo, an intoxicating mix of old leather, jet fuel, and Indian curry. Those peculiar amethyst eyes were half-closed, watching him from under heavy lids, and Heero felt his knees buckling. Annoyed with his body's betrayal, he rebuked himself. Now is not the time. Mission mode is the only way to get through this. 

Duo put one fist up and slammed it into the wall next to Heero's right ear with deadly speed. Leaning in close until their faces were mere inches apart, Duo cocked his head, scrutinizing Heero. His expression was unreadable. 

"Only if you tell me why," he murmured, his breath hot on Heero's cheek. 

"Because..." Heero tried to think. What could he say? "Because...I wanted to know why." 

"Why what," Duo cajoled. 

Heero could feel the wool of Duo's coat brushing against his ear, and he closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on feeling nothing. It's not working, that stupid small voice taunted. 

"Why you guys weren't friends anymore," Heero finally answered. 

"What do you care?" Another caress of warmth on Heero's cheek. 

"I do care..." A bolt of anger lent strength to Heero's whisper. 

"Not good enough," Duo retorted, his voice going up a notch in volume even as the temperature in his tone dropped several points. 

"Du―" Too late Heero realized his mistake. 

There was a thud, and Duo's other hand was now up as well. Both fists were planted on the wall on either side of his head, and Duo's body was only inches from his. The cloth of Duo's jacket brushed against Heero's bare chest, making his stomach muscles tense and ripple under his skin. 

"You were saying," Duo prompted calmly, as if pinning Heero to the wall was a normal part of the day's tasks. 

"I wanted to help," the dark-haired man whispered, closing his eyes again, opening them again at the sound of the other man's voice. 

"Wanted to protect us, you mean," Duo said quietly, his face serious. "Thought you could make it all better?" 

"Ye...no." Heero glared angrily, half of his fury directed towards himself for the near-slip. Lowering his chin curtly to emphasize his fully stated answer brought him nose-to-nose with Duo. Something in his gut uncoiled and kicked at the realization. 

"And if you can't?" A smile flashed across Duo's face, a grim reminder of Shinigami. "If we won't let you?" 

"I'm staying anyway," Heero said, his voice suddenly stronger. I've made up my mind, he repeated silently. I'll fight from now until when the fight's over, and I'll be standing at the end. 

"Why?" 

"After the war...I left..." 

"Why?" The refrain was nothing more than a soft breath on Heero's cheek. 

"I thought..." Heero's swallowed, feeling the heat of Duo's body against his, only inches away but radiating power and intensity. 

"Tell me why," Duo coaxed softly. 

"All that matters is that I'm staying." Heero momentarily regained his composure, staring Duo squarely in the eye. In a heartbeat the unwanted sensations were flooding him again, and he was drowning in the onslaught. Duo's scent was filling his nostrils. Duo's breath was caressing his cheek. Duo's lips were parted and his tongue flickered out, a rapid movement before disappearing. 

Heero dragged his eyes away from Duo's lips and focused on the other man's eyes, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm staying," he repeated softly. 

"Is it that simple?" 

Heero could see the other man's eyes measuring him but giving nothing away. The dark-haired man knew his own wartime mask portrayed only indifference, but privately he feared the thudding in his chest had to be audible from across the room. And Duo was close, so close, there was no doubt he could hear the blood rushing in Heero's veins, feel the heat coiling under the surface of Heero's skin. 

"Isn't that enough?" Heero muttered. But while his tone was almost sarcastic, his eyes were busy trailing down Duo's face, studying the way the long bangs glanced against the pilot's cheeks. They drifted with each soft breath, and caught on the edge of his lips, full and ripe, open just the barest amount. 

"Not really," Duo said, the smile flashing widely as if he found the statement humorous, and then his expression was piercing. Deadly. "You figure out why you want to stay, and we'll talk. Until then, don't waste my time." Shinigami flashed in Duo's eyes, and he suddenly pulled back, pounding both fists simultaneously into the wall on either side of Heero's head. 

Heero reflexively blinked. 

A split-second later he opened his eyes to see the door closing behind Duo. The motion brushed a draught of cool air across his bare chest. Clenching his fists helplessly, Heero noticed the black bag was still in the middle of the floor. He glared at it, and then slammed his head up against the wall, somewhere between frustrated and furious. 

The powerful emotions pushed through his body, unleashed by the suddenly empty room, and Heero collapsed back against the wall. His body wouldn't stop shaking uncontrollably. Gritting his teeth, he fought the instinct to sink into the protective huddle. Heero snarled and pushed away from the wall, anger springing up to course through every muscle. 

Damn that bastard. Heero cursed his former comrade in several different languages, finally settling on the simplest refrain. Damn him. 

He didn't even stop to grab a clean shirt, but wrenched his dirty shirt over his head, still cursing under his breath. Pulling on his socks and shoes, he shoved his few belongings in the black bag, grabbed his leather coat, and headed out the door. 

I'm here now, and I'll stay until you accept me again. 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, have a roundtrip ticket to Oregon, and no, you can't have it! But you can have all the spam that'll be waiting in my box when I get home. 

Nlp: Go read the latest commentary chapter – it's not a commentary, it's simply the characters reviewing the quotes from each chapters and citing sources. Still some silliness but hopefully any information you want (through chapter 17) is in there. 

SilverCaladan: yes, ff.net has been very wonky. Sometimes I get email reviews that don't show up in the list (but are tabulated in the numbers, strangely), and sometimes I get reviews that I don't get emails for. As for the story, yeah, Pops just seems to have become someone with a soft spot for Hel, but she's turning out to be a pretty vivacious person, so I'm not surprised. Dirty old man! 

Lainwyn: I suppose things were really subtle there with the hackers, pointing out that all they're doing is looking at things (as opposed to changing stuff in the system). Getting in, looking, and getting out is usually much easier and less risky, as these things go. And yeah, I'd intended to have Heero chat with Jeet but the blue-haired freak wouldn't cooperate. Stubborn characters! 

Crimson: More twists are coming, but it all depends on what happens after Heero storms out of that hotel room. But then, I guess you'll just have to check back in a week to see... 

Last but never least, many MANY thanks to CalicoCat and Kiya Sama, who both beta'd parts of this chapter and had many insightful comments to make. That last part turned out to be one of the hardest I've written so far...About that rattlesnake, Lainwyn! Thanks for the visual, see what you did? ;-) 

And now, that's the cliffhanger I've been promising, hence the rapid writing to get it out of my system. Turns out I won't be taking the laptop – I'm taking some of my cameras, and believe me, I hear that's going to be enough of a hassle with the latest terrorism threats. Incidentally, most of them seem to involve common cameras as potential explosive devices. Lovely. 

If you get bored, you could always go read Benediction. Or you could go read some of my colleague's works, like CalicoCat's Fragments (on MM.org) or Kiya Sama's The Tutor. Oh, and you also simply have to go to CalicoCat's homepage to see the latest from CleverYoungThief. It's a surfing AU, Endless Summer, that has me hooked right now. 


	19. if looks could kill

**01 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

And I changed my name so only my looks remain  
And if looks could kill I'd need a license for my face  
― Justin Currie 

Heero got back to the ship by mid-afternoon. The ship's loading door was closed, and he punched in the access code. His anger had faded over an afternoon of shopping and wandering, but it was pulsing up again at the thought of running into Duo. The dark-haired man shook his head mentally, aggravated at the way Duo had so easily pushed him off-balance, and the way he'd been unable to fight back. It wasn't a familiar sensation, and that experience alone colored his memories of Duo's morning visit. 

Sighing, Heero kept his head down and headed straight for his bunkroom. He let the bag hit the floor, dropping his shopping bags next to it, and began unpacking everything. The door slid open behind him, and he stood up with a growl, not turning around. 

"Hel, one of these days I'm going to―" 

"She does it to all of us," the voice said. Trowa. 

Heero turned around, his face flushing slightly at the sight of the taller man leaning against the doorframe. 

"Sorry," Heero mumbled. 

"Long day?" 

Heero nodded. That doesn't begin to cover it, he thought. Trowa eyed the bags on the floor. 

"I needed jeans that hadn't had the bottom three inches cut off," Heero told him quietly. He tucked the new jeans into the closet drawer and started hanging up the shirts he'd purchased. 

"Eaten yet?" Trowa's voice was politely friendly. Heero turned around and gave the taller man a hard stare. 

"Should you be standing up?" 

"All better now," Trowa said, smirking. He flexed his leg, bending the knee up, and letting it down again. Heero noticed a small wince as the knee was compressed, but chose to ignore it. The acrobat would know better than anyone just what his limits were. "Speaking of all better," the man continued. "I presume Day found you." 

Heero scowled. 

"Couldn't have gone that bad," Heavyarms' pilot observed. "You're here, after all." 

"I told him I'm staying." 

"I'm sure it's an interesting story." 

Heero glanced at Trowa, caught off-guard by the unexpected response. When he opened his mouth to speak, however, the taller man put a finger up, and then pointed to his ear. Smiling, he let his hand drop as Heero nodded in comprehension. 

"You didn't say before...Eaten yet?" 

"No," the dark-haired man said, still a little suspicious. 

"Good, you can join me." Trowa waited until Heero had grabbed his leather coat, and then led the way from the ship. 

* * *

Trowa's long legs set an ambling pace that Heero found easy to match. There was little conversation until the taller man swung his head, that dark sheaf of thick hair falling away from his face as he turned his gaze towards one of L2's few city parks. The trees were stunted in the colony air, but the grass was green and there were a few flowerbeds. 

"That's a good place to talk," he told Heero. "When I get tired of the city, that's a place to be alone." The hair had slipped over his face again, but not before Heero felt those green eyes settling on him, suggesting something between the lines. 

He knew right away: no listening devices in the park. He glanced around, measuring the park's boundaries as they passed. None of the street cameras were trained on the green space, either. It was an empty hole in the surveillance. 

At the local Mexican restaurant Heero prompted the conversation with a topic that made Trowa raise his eyebrows momentarily. Heero met the look with a twitch of his lips. 

"I understand you were a mercenary somewhere on Earth for the past few years." 

Trowa simply nodded. He didn't answer further until they'd given their orders and gotten their drinks. Heavyarms' pilot ordered a margarita. 

"I wouldn't have guessed you for liking Tequila," Heero remarked. 

"I wouldn't have guessed you for being one to down five shots of whiskey in fifteen minutes and passing out at five in the afternoon," Trowa replied in that same even tone. 

Heero could feel the flush going from his chin to his forehead in nothing flat, and he sighed, giving the other man a crooked half-smile. Trowa responded with a tentative smile, and then began speaking of his experiences as a mercenary in that unnamed third world country back on Earth. 

Most of it was certainly made up out of whole cloth, or at least cobbled from Trowa's early years among mercenaries. Heero was more aware of the fact that it had been five years since Trowa had spoken to him, let alone at such length. Heero's mind wandered back to the day he'd woken up in Trowa's circus trailer to find Catherine knitting at his bedside, and the friendship he hadn't realized he'd missed. For that reason, the dark-haired man was satisfied to simply listen, nodding at appropriate intervals. When Trowa finally fell silent as their dinners were served, Heero decided to tackle Pops' question, and hope Trowa had an explanation. 

"What did you do right after the war?" 

There was a long pause, as Trowa carefully cut his enchilada with the back of his fork. Heero noticed Trowa ate in the European style, keeping his fork in his left hand during the entire meal. The Wing Zero pilot wondered absently if this bothered Quatre, whose culture, Heero was pretty sure, believed the left hand should never touch food. 

"I was...a prisoner of war," Trowa finally replied. "Two years in a work camp until I was released. Built roads in Mongolia," he explained. 

Heero grunted. 

"You?" 

"Tried to go to college. Didn't get much of anywhere," Heero said. He hoped that would be enough. Pops hadn't said what colleges Hito Young was supposed to have flunked, and he didn't want to evade and raise suspicion on the part of anyone listening. 

"Never figured out what you wanted to do?" Trowa nodded thoughtfully. 

"Yeah." Heero ate his flauta, stalling for time. His senses were tingling, and he was certain the other man's question meant more than it appeared at face value. He stared down at his plate before looking up again, startled to see Trowa's green eyes focused squarely on him. 

"How does one figure it out, other than time?" Heero asked softly. 

"Time is important," Trowa agreed. "But sometimes you run out of it." 

"What then?" 

"Do something," the pilot said. "Even if you don't have all the information, you have to act on what you feel. Someone I knew told me that, once." 

Heero's lip quirked before he could catch the motion, and he decided to let the smile show after all. He'd smiled at Hilde; perhaps it was time to start showing Trowa he'd changed, as well. 

"You should smile more often," Trowa commented. 

"Hel said the same thing," Heero muttered, suddenly embarrassed. He ducked his head and stared at his plate intently again. "But once you know what you want to do, it can be hard to go do it." 

"Especially when it seems the world doesn't agree with your choice," the pilot replied. "But sometimes the world does agree. It's just too uncertain on its own to let you know. You have to make the first move." 

"Make the first move," Heero repeated softly. 

"Carpe diem, and all that," Trowa continued coolly. "But it doesn't work if you're not honest. The world doesn't reward half-truths." 

"I see." And, in fact, Heero saw quite well. "It's good advice. When I know what I want to do with my life, I'll let the world know right away." 

"I think the world would appreciate that," Trowa said. "You'd be surprised what the world will forgive, if your intent is pure." The taller man pushed his now-empty plate away and dropped several credits on the table. "I've got errands to run for our next job. I'll see you back at the ship?" 

Heero nodded, a little surprised. 

Heavyarms' pilot stood over the table for a second before smiling down at Heero, a sweet, private expression. Leaning over, he brought his face close to Heero's ear, and dropped his voice low. "We're going out tonight. Team tradition. Come with us. You might enjoy what the world could show you." 

Heero answered the smile with one of his own, and enjoyed the rest of his meal despite being alone. Somehow it tasted better now that he knew Trowa was trying to help. 

* * *

When Heero got back to the ship, Hilde was in the gathering room reading a magazine. She waved him in. 

"Did Trey tell you? Tonight?" 

"Yeah. Are you going bowling?" 

Hilde's eyebrows shot up. "Bowling," she squeaked. "You know how to bowl?" 

"No," he replied with a smirk. "If you said yes, I'd have to bow out." 

"Another joke!" she cried, and smacked him on the arm, grinning widely. "We've got about four hours to kill. Want to challenge me to a video game?" 

"Which one?" Heero furrowed his brows, uncertain. He really hadn't been into games. Scratch that, he thought, I've never really played video games. 

"Universal Auto," she replied, pulling the game consoles over from where they were piled on the low table. She hit a button, the lights went dim and the screen came to life. "You have to steal a car, and get away from the cops, and there's car chases and pedestrians. Up for it?" 

"Sure," he said, grinning shyly. 

Three hours later, she'd stolen seventeen cars, crashed twelve, and Heero had stolen fourteen and crashed two. Neither noticed the sounds of Duo returning, taking a shower and leaving again, nor were they aware of Trowa's arrival with the first shipment of supplies needed for their next job. 

"Who's winning?" Trowa stepped into the room, turning to see the read-out at the bottom of the large screen. 

"I am," Hilde announced. "Hito would be, but he has this thing for pedestrians." 

"They should stay off the―" Heero grunted as he swung the console's steering wheel with one hand and hit several buttons at the same time with his other hand. "―sidewalks while I'm driving." 

"And you let him pilot our ship?" Trowa peered over Heero's lowered head at Hilde with a curious look. 

"Shut up," Heero growled. "I wouldn't have two crashes if it weren't for Hel." 

"He's ticklish," she announced, laughing when Heero threw her a glare. 

"I never would have guessed," Trowa replied, leaving the room with a half-wave. His voice echoed down the hallway. "One hour, Hel. Day's already gone." 

"Figures," she said with a snort. "That boy is crazy for going out." 

Heero finished his turn with his fifteenth successfully stolen car, his lips quirking in a pleased expression, as the pedestrian body count became a three-digit number. 

* * *

Heero was getting a bad feeling about the evening. Hilde had gone on ahead of them, but only after spending ten minutes fussing about every clothing choice Heero had selected. He'd gone through every pair of jeans, finally choosing his beat-up black jeans, ignoring the growing rip in one knee. 

Now he was perched on the back of Trowa's bike, holding the other man loosely around the waist as the bike roared around the corner. The dark blue silk rubbed up against his chest, pressed between his body and the back of Trowa's leather jacket. Hilde had agreed to one of Heero's dark green shirts, but after she'd left, he'd caught Trowa staring at the selection. 

Heero had raised an eyebrow, and the taller man simply shrugged, a quick smile darting across his lips. Heero remembered the afternoon's peculiar conversation, and stared at the green shirt for several minutes. Finally he tossed it aside in favor of the blue silk shirt he'd worn when dancing with Hilde. 

Recalling that choice, Heero tightened his hold and leaned into a turn, and wondered where they were headed. Trowa was wearing black leather pants but his green turtleneck was tighter, smooth across his chest. The entire effect was...Heero searched for the right word. Delicious. He scowled at his thoughts and shoved the image away, deciding to blame everything on that single kiss with Jeet. Everything had gone downhill since then, he decided. Better to put it out of his head and get back into mission mode. 

When they pulled up in front of the club, however, mission mode left him completely and Heero found himself gaping at the taller man, surprised at the venue. Trowa laughed quietly as he nodded to the doormen, pausing in the club's foyer to lean over and speak into Heero's ear. 

"Welcome to where the world plays," he said, pulling away with another soft laugh. With that, he pushed the door open, and led Heero into the club. 

The music slowly resolved itself into a low, sonorous moan, drifting across the dance floor. From their position at the raised entrance, Heero could see a hundred bodies, paused with their hands over their heads as the lights flashed and danced across the crowd. A single beat was pulsing underneath, and the melody shifted, became lighter, growing in volume as it sped up, weaving its wave through the deep bass beat pushing at Heero's chest. 

During college, Heero had been dragged to clubs, but it was usually for live bands. The idea was to stand around and watch the band. The music was the entertainment, but here, in the throng of moving bodies and writhing limbs, the dance itself was the only purpose, the only reason to exist. Dimly he was aware of someone guiding him down the steps and pulling him gently towards a bar table along the side. Heero instinctively leaned against the wall behind the table, turning with a scowl to Trowa. 

"I didn't―" he started, then frowned deeper and pulled the taller man to face him. "This is your team tradition?" he mouthed. 

Trowa nodded, his lips twitching as a shot of tequila appeared in front of him, served by a cocktail waitress. She grinned at Heero and promptly put down a second shot. Heero groaned. Whiskey. 

"Cheers," Trowa mouthed, raising it glass to clink it against Heero's. The two men downed their shots, and Heero winced as the sharp liquid poured down his throat to heat up in his belly. The music had fallen into a steady beat, and he stared at the dance floor, two steps down from the bar's level. 

Trowa tapped him on the shoulder, and Heero turned to look. It took a second for him to comprehend the unfamiliar names in Trowa's words. 

"Day and Hel are already dancing," Trowa was saying. "Are you going to join them?" 

Heero shook his head and scowled, crossing his arms as he leant against the wall, his head down. Under his brows, though, he continued to watch the dance floor intently, his eyes roving across the crowd, seeking out his teammates. 

There. 

Duo was dancing with Hilde on one of the raised portions of the dance floor, out in front. His braid was whipping around him as he swayed back and forth quickly, in time with the music, and Hilde's leg was wrapped around Duo's waist as the thief held her by the hips. When the lights skimmed the crowd and played up across the raised platform, Duo's chestnut hair shown as if pure fire against his black shirt. 

Heero ignored Trowa's quiet chuckle and moved to the railing for an unobstructed view. Leaning against it with crossed arms, he did his best to appear nonchalant. His heart was thudding in his chest. He knew Duo had always been sensitive about the fact that people mistook him for a girl, with that long hair, but Heero couldn't see how Duo could be considered anything but completely masculine. 

The man's hips were dipping, bucking into Hilde's as the girl leaned back, her arms swirling in sinuous movements over her head. Duo's head was down, his eyes focused on his partner, and he pulled Hilde back upright. She responded by wrapping her arms around his neck as he held her close, the two moving quickly with the deeper beat. 

Duo spun Hilde so they were facing the opposite direction, and Heero could see Duo's long fingers treading their way up and down Hilde's exposed back, crawling down to her hips before he pushed her away as the music exploded in a frenzy. 

The lights went down, came back up, and blasted into a strobe. Heero blinked, dizzy, and put a hand to his head, belatedly realizing someone was standing at his back. A second later and a hand fell on his shoulder, tightening before he could jerk away. 

"Keep your eyes closed," the voice shouted over the music, and Heero realized it was Trowa. "It'll pass. They never keep the strobes for too long." 

Heero nodded, letting his hand fall when Trowa released his shoulder. Giving the taller man a wan smile, Heero looked back across the crowd. There was no sign of Duo, and he scanned the area quickly. 

Two arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him back sharply in a hug. Almost immediately he knew it wasn't Duo or Trowa. There were far too many curves on the body to be male, especially the breasts pressing into his back just below his shoulder blades. It was either Hilde, if she were wearing heels, or some other girl. Annoyed, he turned his head, raising his eyebrows when he caught a flash of green. 

"Enny," he growled, disengaging from her hold. 

"Hito," she chirped. "Dancing tonight?" 

"No," he said, and stalked back to the table. 

"You aren't drinking, are you?" She followed him, settling neatly into the gap between Trowa's seat and Heero's position. "Because you should really..." The girl cut off her tease with a laugh at Heero's glare. 

There was movement on the steps to the bar level, and Heero glanced over to see Duo approaching. The thief had his arm over another man's shoulder, and the two were laughing. Sweat had drenched Duo's shirt, turning the black into a fathomless depth, but slick like oil on rainwater. His black jeans were molded to his body, and Duo turned to walk backwards, talking to a third person. His braid swung back and forth as he gestured with his free arm. 

Heero growled quietly and crossed his arms. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to avoid talking to Duo, or just wanted to avoid the other man altogether. Shifting in his place against the wall, Heero waited, pinned to his spot. 

"Kino," Enny said into Heero's ear. He glanced down at her, his eyebrows raised, and she grinned. "Day's ex." 

Heero blinked, looking closer at the man standing next to Duo. He was as tall as Trowa, his short hair a white-blond that glowed in the black lights ringing the bar section. His shoulders were broad, his body muscled, his thighs clearly powerful despite being cloaked by jeans. Definitely someone who works out, Heero thought. He wanted to dislike the man suddenly, and found it wasn't difficult. He already disliked the way Kino was chatting happily with Duo, obviously able to keep up his half of the conversation without a problem. 

"Careful," Enny warned the dark-haired man. "I think you're burning a hole in Kino's chest." 

Startled, Heero shot her an angry glance and settled his face into an indifferent expression. Mission mode, his mind shouted, although he wasn't sure what mission could possibly ever require that he spend the evening in a club. Let alone while fighting off a migraine at the overwhelming volume, dealing with cheap whiskey, and watching his teammate hang on an ex-boyfriend. 

Grumpily, Heero wished they'd gone bowling after all. 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, have packed suitcase, two dogs in the kennel, a cold drink, a great CD in the player, and an anxious tummy at the thought of airport security. Bleah! 

This chapter ends rather abruptly, but that's because the pushy little muses were begging for attention, and I kept typing...when I hit five thousand words, there was an eeping sound from my braincells. I've learned the hard way that FF.net will get cranky and not load the entirety of a chapter sometimes, so this seems like a reasonable size. Hence, the abrupt stop...but don't worry, it picks right up in the next chapter. I'm not sure you'll see that chapter today, but who knows! 

Dyna: A spell-checker is a mandatory evil. And to think I used to type my stories out on an IBM Selectric II. My college roommates hated me. The stupid thing sounded like a jackhammer when I got going. But now, the technology! 

SilverCaladan: Yeah, I know it's confusing as to why everyone's doing what they are, but each character has their own motivation...and it'll all be revealed. Eventually. Some of it sooner than other parts. 

LadyJessy: Longer response in email, but in case anyone else thinks similar, I'll put it in a nutshell here: the complexities of betrayal are not easily resolved, and for someone with Duo's background, departure is a serious betrayal. It's complicated by resentment on Duo's part for the fact that Heero always protected him when Duo was struggling hard for respect. Also, go back and reread the end of 19 – Heero doesn't sink into a ball, but gets up and decides to take action. He's been waiting until he had enough information, but now he seems to be angrier and that's pushing him away from his usual wait-and-plan attitude. 

CinC: Good guess on Enny's part, I presume. Or she's just psychic, or psychotic. Anyway, the next chapter – the part I've already written, so I know this for a fact – a lot gets explained, albeit in a subtle way – about Enny's and Hilde's behavior. I think also maybe Heero's easier to read than he realizes, but not everyone's willing to let him know that. Something about him being able to kill a person seventeen different ways with only his hands... 

Lainwyn: No, no, no, Heero is not screaming like a girl! He's Riki-Tiki-Tavi, I tell you! Watch that mongoose go! And Duo's a timebomb but a deliciously complex one. He's got a few more hoops for Heero to jump before all's well. 

Sawdust monster: Awww, shucks. You now have a week to ponder the story all over again and let me know if you can think of improvements, or have any theories on what's really going on. I'm always curious as to how things come across. ;-) 

With additional thanks to Duopriest and Okaasan for their wonderful responses off-line – I got all warm and fuzzy inside reading the full critiques. Everyone's comments just made my day – it's great to know I can write an Evil Duo. 


	20. a bird that nests inside

**01 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

There's a bird that nests inside you  
Sleeping underneath your skin  
When you open up your wings to speak  
I wish you'd let me in  
― Adam Duritz 

The waitress appeared with another round of drinks, and Heero's hand snaked out, catching the whiskey before she'd even had a chance to set the glass down. Tipping it back, he swallowed the shot and slammed it down on the table, his eyes never leaving Kino. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Trowa swirling the tequila thoughtfully before taking the shot. 

There were several other drinks on the table. Two beer bottles, and two tall glasses. One glass held a liquid that reflected brilliant green under the black lights, and the other was a pale blue. Both had little umbrellas, and Heero blinked at them, his gaze scanning the group around the table before noticing the drinks had been lifted and were clinking against each other. 

Following the hands up to their respective owners, his eyes went momentarily wide to see Hilde's mouth pressed against Enny's ear as she talked. Enny was giggling, her gaze flitting between Trowa, Heero, and Duo. Heero narrowed his eyes at the sight and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms as he pondered this curious sight. 

Hilde and Enny are friends, he thought, irritated. Well, that does explain a lot, the small voice crowed. There was a shout, and Heero looked up to see two more men joining the table. A black-haired man with a ponytail leaned over and hugged Duo tightly while the thief laughed and pretending to be choking and gasping for air. The second man, short and broad with a buzz cut, slapped Trowa on the shoulder while asking him a question. The Heavyarms pilot nodded, smiled a little, and shook his head, saying something and pointing to his knee. 

Hilde was laughing at something Enny had said, and it distracted Heero long enough that he didn't immediately notice a new girl approaching the table. She smiled at Trowa, said something to Kino, and threw her arms around Duo's neck. The long-haired man's hair was mussed, sweat-stuck to his forehead, and his eyes were wide as he put his head back and laughed at the girl's inaudible words. Then he leaned forward, his eyes closing as he put one hand against her cheek and kissed her deeply. 

Heero fought back a snarl. His blue eyes flickered to Trowa, who was now listening to something Buzz Cut was saying. Kino was talking to Ponytail, his expression undisturbed as it darted over to Duo, who was still kissing the girl passionately. Heero could see Duo's other hand snaking down to the girl's hips to pull her closer, and something in Heero's gut wrenched and flipped. 

His skin prickled, and he cut his eyes over to Hilde and Enny, who were watching him with appraising looks. In the bar's dark lighting the glow from their blue and green drinks reflected into their eyes, giving their faces an eerie cast. Heero stared back at them, challenging, pleased when their eyes dropped away from his. A motion in the corner of his eye made him look back in time to see Duo's braid flying around behind him as the girl yanked him towards the dance floor. 

The music had modulated into a new pattern, quick-footed across the scales, mirrored by a single note acting as percussion. Heero followed Duo's progress, unconsciously glowering as two more people approached Duo. The thief's body language, even when dancing, was easy for Heero's keen eyes to read. Deathscythe's pilot was in his element, moving with a grace and power that denoted comfort and ease in his body: eminently approachable, yet somehow still unattainable. 

Someone pressed up close to Heero, and he turned to see it was Trowa. The taller man's hair had fallen over his eyes again, and the single visible green eye was glinting dangerously. 

"Carpe diem, and all that," Trowa mouthed. Heero ducked his head, turning away from Trowa to stare across the dance floor again. 

It certainly hadn't seemed that having an audience bothered Duo, nor had the girl seemed like more than a friend, when she'd first walked up. Or perhaps Duo was just the kind of person to be as affectionate sexually as he was when just a friend. The thought of Duo as a sexual being made Heero's heart lurch, the ache radiating from there down through his stomach and sending a flash of heat into his groin. 

Heero put his head back to stare up at the club's ceiling. The lights were hung in racks, swinging and flashing in time with the relentless pounding of the backbeat. A sampled line was being repeated, but Heero couldn't make it out, and it condensed into one more factor pressing on his awareness. Vaguely he realized it was a sample of a girl's voice, crying in ecstasy, and he winced. 

Now that he'd recognized the sound, it was impossible to escape, and it was raising the worst kinds of questions in his head. He wondered what Duo was like in bed. Did he moan? Did he talk constantly? 

Heero reflected on that for a minute. Duo certainly talked a great deal when they'd worked together in the past, but he was capable of silence, too, when it was required. Was Duo the kind who screams? Would he whisper obscene suggestions in his lover's ears? The thought made Heero's groin ache, and he leaned against the wall, tightening his arms across his chest, trying desperately to push the thoughts away. They wouldn't leave. 

Angrily Heero snapped his fingers at the cocktail waitress, leaning over to shout in her ear that he wanted a ginger ale, damn it, not another whiskey. She nodded, grinning widely, and ducked back through the crowd to the bar. Heero looked over to see Trowa's head down, listening to something Enny was saying. The girl was gesturing wildly, and when she was done he rewarded her with a polite smile. Heero watched with a slightly wry expression. 

Turning his attention back to where Duo was dancing, back-to-front with Kino, Heero furrowed his brows as he tried to concentrate on what he'd say once he had the world's attention. Assuming, of course, the world would even notice him at this point, he admitted ruefully. He was a drab crow in a room of fancy peacocks, even if his shirt was silk. It wasn't really his, and his discomfort showed. Maybe he should have worn the green...Heero shook his head at himself. There really wasn't a right thing to wear to ease the uncertainty in his head. 

I'll tell him I'm sorry, Heero decided. And...I'll tell him I won't leave again. 

The dark-haired man squinted as his eyes focused on the dancing crowd. The music was lighter now, a lively beat, and the crowd reflected the mood's change, bouncing nearly as a single entity. Heero could see Duo grinning widely as he jumped up and down between two of his friends, their arms snaking up and around his as he moved his hips against theirs. It was a light-hearted melody, and Heero unwillingly found himself absently tapping a finger in time. 

No, he thought, dragging his attention back to the inner monologue. I told him already that I won't leave, and that wasn't enough. He wants to know why I'm really here. I'm here because...Heero took the ginger ale handed to him, not even seeing the waitress' smile. Why am I here? 

He sipped the drink, and held the cool glass against his face for a second. His head was now nodding with the cheerful remixed refrain as it faded in and out, amplified and extended with an equally merry counter-melody. 

I came because I assumed Duo would need my help. Heero was startled to find himself disgusted at how much he'd truly underestimated Duo. The only thing keeping Heero from slamming the drink in anger about his blindness was the fact that he was smiling at the happy beat on the dance floor. The contrast struck Heero as infinitely funny, and he glanced over at Trowa with a half-grin. 

"I'm the idiot here," he mouthed. "Pen and paper?" 

Trowa laughed, and dug in his jacket. 

I am the idiot, Heero repeated silently as he took the playbill and pen from Trowa, composing his sentences before uncapping the pen. I ran here because I thought Duo's sabotage meant he was in trouble. I was going to take care of it all, fix it for him, save the day...and push him to the back. I only wanted to make sure he was safe, all those times, in the war. It was for Duo's own good. 

At least, Heero thought wryly, that was my excuse. I liked him. He was my friend, the first person who was ever my friend. I wanted him to be safe. If I didn't live through the war, he would, and somehow, a part of me would keep going, as long as he did. 

Heero rubbed his neck and let his eyes drift out across the club again. If I'm going to stay here, he decided, I need to tell Duo I'm not here to protect him. Not unless he wants it, or tells me to, Heero amended. I want to watch his back. I want to watch his front. I want to watch him...Heero groaned as his mind starting flashing painfully erotic images at him. 

No, no, no, he snapped silently. Don't go there. 

The Wing Zero pilot had let his mind run in its own paths all afternoon, and the most he'd managed to conclude was the realization that he was remarkably unfazed by the notion of being attracted to men. In fact, it was almost a relief, to be attracted to _someone_. He'd never thought girls ― or women ― were someone to obsess over, to fancy, to dream about. For the most part, he'd been indifferent; Relena had been a special case, and that was less due to her gender and more to her persistence dragging Heero back into the human race. His affection and care for her had always been built on a curious foundation of admiration and protectiveness, and neither was really the basis for good old-fashioned lust. 

But lust wasn't the real clincher, Heero had recognized that afternoon. He'd been trying to decide between the green mock turtleneck and the light blue t-shirt, and it dawned on him that he didn't care what he wore, ate, drove, or bought. What he wanted was someone _else_ who'd care. That someone else could be a one-legged man with a glass eye and lobster-level sunburn and the gruesome appearance would still take a backseat to the joyful completeness of being loved. 

Heero supposed J had loved him, in his own way. The brutalities of training, conditioning, and genetic manipulation were somehow, at least marginally, balanced by the scientist's eventual realization that Heero had to decide for himself. Heero returned that respect with complete loyalty. Maybe the only thing J gave him was a name, but after five years, Heero was almost certain that J gave him, like Odin, the closest thing to love that Heero had ever had. 

So strangely, Heero found himself nonchalant about the concept of a specific sexual designation for his attention. What kept bothering him was the fact that it was Duo he was thinking about. Duo. The thief! The idiot with the yard-long braid, stealth, and over-sized doses of irreverence towards everyone's skills, who had a joke for every occasion. And yet Duo was also the handsome engineer with godlike hacking skills, brilliant cunning, and a smile for every stranger. Duo was one of those dazzling peacocks, and Heero was certain there wasn't a person in the club who hadn't been smiled at, touched, hugged, or kissed by the man ― and those who hadn't were waiting anxiously for their chance. If Duo wanted friends, people were lining up. What could Heero possibly do to compete with all of them? Why would Duo ever notice _him_? 

Turning to Trowa, he tapped the tall man on the elbow and handed him back the pen. 

"Trey," Heero mouthed, his brows knitted slightly, the merest public expression a visible sign of the depth of his anxiety. "What can I possibly offer the world?" 

The Heavyarms pilot was silent for a moment as he put the pen away, then his lips quirked up quickly at the edges as he mouthed his response. "The simple fact that you'd ask says you have more to offer than most." 

* * *

Heero reviewed his note one more time, then folded it back up and shoved it in his back pocket. Say it to him, the small voice chided. But he couldn't get by without mentioning some history, to acknowledge the mistakes he'd made and wouldn't make again. What if someone were able to read his lips? The pilots could all do it, why not someone else? So as quickly as Heero had put it away, he'd dug the note back out and shoved it in his shirt-wrist for easy access. The truth was, he admitted unhappily, that he was completely unable to muster the courage to say any of it to Duo straight up. 

Stop that, he reprimanded himself. Plan what you're going to say, or you won't be able to find the words fast enough before he's given up and walked away. 

Heero thought of Duo walking away, like he had that morning from the hotel room, and something inside him starting aching. It felt like there was a fist planted in his chest, squeezing hard. Exhaling slowly, the dark-haired man focused his eyes back on the dance floor, searching through the bodies for a braid swaying in counterpoint to a body moving with the beat. He couldn't see Duo anywhere. 

Turning around to stare at the bar, Heero glared at nothing in particular and swung around again only to come face-to-face with Duo. The man's braid was coming undone, and sweat-damp wisps were pasted to his neck and face. The longer loose strands were floating, lit in blue and purple under the club's lights, a strange halo dancing around his face. 

Heero belatedly noticed the young man draped over Duo's shoulders. The kid had one hand around Duo's neck, and the other curled possessively over the thief's bare stomach. Duo's black shirt was open to the waist and falling away from his body, and Heero scowled, suddenly unable to force air through his vocal cords. Glaring at the unknown kid, Heero pulled out the note and thrust it at Duo. 

Duo took the folded paper, one eyebrow raised, then put the note to his lips, holding it gently between his teeth as he pried the kid's arm from around his neck. The kid sulked for a minute, but Duo pushed at the boy's chest until he walked away, longing glances thrown over his shoulder. 

Heero debated melting back into the crowd, but found his fists were clenched, ready to start punching if the kid hadn't split on Duo's command. He steeled his face into lines of indifference, but his eyes were narrowed as Duo slowly unfolded the note. Duo's luminous eyes studied Heero for a long and careful minute before dropping to the paper, his lips barely moving as he scanned Heero's broad scrawl. 

Duo held the paper for a long time, clearly reading much slower than normal. Heero stared at Duo's hands, unable to tell if they were shaking as badly as his own. He blinked, squinting to refocus. If Duo's hands were shaky, they were steady now, accompanied by a glimmer of pleasure pulling up the corners of the thief's lips. A second later Heero again doubted what he'd seen, as Duo's lips went tight and pinched. Must've been the light that made me think he was smiling, Heero thought, dismally. 

When Duo finally raised his eyes to meet Heero's, the thief's expression was dull. 

"Friends like we were," Duo mouthed. 

Heero swallowed hard, and nodded apprehensively. 

Duo's face was still, but Heero realized little muscles were tensing and flicking, in the longhaired man's jaw, at the corners of his eyes, lines appearing and disappearing between the thief's brows. And then it was all smooth, and Duo was smiling, shrugging gracefully as the paper was tucked away into a pocket. Heero watched the smile, his anxious scowl fading into a look of simple confusion as he realized the smile wasn't reaching Duo's eyes. 

"Hey," Duo said, forming his words like they used to on missions when silence was key. "Thirsty? Want a shot?" 

Duo's gestures were fluid, his body language friendly, but his eyes were distant. Polite. Cool. Heero gritted his teeth, waiting for several heartbeats before slowly shaking his head. 

"Think I'm gonna head back," the dark-haired man replied. 

There was a flash of an unrecognizable emotion across Duo's face, and then he shrugged again. Almost instantly that same kid was at his side, and Duo had pulled the kid close with an arm around the boy's waist. Duo turned them both, and waved over his shoulder at Heero, a casual motion without looking. 

Heero was out the bar's front door and halfway down the block before he was able to properly catalog the strange feeling in his chest. That fist, digging around his heart, was now pushing against his lungs. It was hard to breathe. The waves of impact were rolling down his gut and into his hips where they radiated back up his spine, coiling in his throat. No. It was nearly impossible to breathe. 

What was it this time, Heero bemoaned. I thought it'd be better, writing it down so he wouldn't have to wait while I found the words. But I still did something wrong, and I don't know what. 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, have a continuing major headache, hence the chapter ending about six paragraphs (or more) sooner than I'd wanted. I never drink caffeine, anymore, y'see, and the stupid hotel only had Earl Grey regular, and of course wine and cider have plenty of caffeine (thanks to the sugar) so it was a caffeinated week...and now my body is going through DTs. So if you want to sue, you're welcome to Earl Grey regular, no cream, real sugar, just leave me with plenty of Earl Grey decaf, half-and-half, and a bit o' fake sugar. Sheesh. Damn stupid hippy-ass hotels. 

SilverCaladan: You were right. I didn't see a single large-caliber gun at the airport, but I'm afraid I was being too pushy about hand-checking my sixteen rolls of film to really care. Re the story: I think Trowa was always sympathetic towards Heero, them both being so similar in some ways, but Trowa's got some ghosts of his own that have made him less than open until now. Problem is, you won't read that until the next chapter... 

LadyJessy: Yeah, well, I thought the double meaning of The World was pretty keen, myself. That and I like the symbolism of the Tarot Card for Duo way better than the Death card. The Western concept (mystically speaking) of Death isn't the same as the Eastern concept. Duh. 

Lainwyn: Trauma-induced something, at least! About those friends and enemies, I guess you're in the same boat as Mister Riki about three or four paragraphs into this chapter. Heh. Oh, and you've got a semi-cameo in the latest commentary. I couldn't resist... 

CinC: Ah-hah, multiple gold stars for you! However, I won't go into the explanations because it seems to cause nothing but trouble. Explaining things down here, in the notes, means some readers now "know more" and assume I should be equally open spilling the beans in the story. However, things like Duo's perceptions, history, and intentions are things that Heero must discover (or determine) in the course of his interaction with Duo – they're not things that Heero can know purely by logic, for the most part. Heero is a very perceptive character, but he's never been one to demand explanations. This means, to some extent, he's ignored/refused many explanations he now understands, had he been open to previous discussions. In other words, it's a learning process for Heero, and it won't be immediate. 

Nlp: Yeah, Trowa liked it so much that he's taken to making comments on the outtakes. ;-) 

GoldenRat: Really, you too? Ever since the hackers made off with my cribsheet, I've been terribly confused. If you figure it out, do let me know. (Hehe.) 

Sawdust monster: Everyone has motives. My motive, right now, is to go to bed! Okay, seriously now: every character has a clear and purposeful motive – but that intent is only clear to the specific character. This introduces conflict, because it's not in everyone's best interest to spout motives. (And that's a rather obscene visual, at 2:28 am EST.) And since conflict is bad in life but good in stories...bwahahaha, my evil plot thickens! 

Crimson: Given Heero's tango with Hilde, I'd bet he could dance. I'd considered having him dance (and maybe even with Duo) but it's like I have five or six things that need to happen before a specific event, but those five or six things can chronologically be in a variety of orders. And unfortunately (or fortunately), it appears that Heero will not be dancing this evening due. He probably won't be dancing in the next chapter, either, but he may be [censored]. However, that [censored] plot twist will not involve doing the tango with Duo the orange-eating Monkey Boy. Not yet, at least! 


	21. long for wilder days

**01 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

Like a myth, you rode in from the west;  
From the go, you had my button pressed ―  
Did the tea-time of your soul make you long for wilder days?  
Did you never let Jack Kerouac wash over you in waves?  
― Richard Thompson 

Heero came across the park by accident, after a half-hour of aimless wandering in the colony's midnight. At the edge of the grassy area, past the low trees and flowerbeds, he impulsively unlaced his boots and slipped off his socks. Carrying his boots in one hand, he padded barefoot across the grass to sit in the center of the little park. Seating himself cross-legged, Heero rested his chin on his fists as he continued to replay the night in his mind. 

Duo's hands had definitely been shaking when he'd unfolded the note. Then he'd smiled...almost. Heero wondered if the smile indicated pleasure at the note's promise to follow, not lead, and protect only as a function of watching Duo's back. Or perhaps, Heero thought ruefully, it was more of an exasperated expression. Perhaps Duo was merely amused it'd taken Heero this long to figure out the boundaries of their friendship. 

Heero ran his hands through his hair, resting his forehead against his palms for a minute. Duo had read the note with such deliberate care, and Heero had just started to relax, hope glimmering faintly. But then Duo's expression had gone blank, his eyes grew empty and distant. Heero was positive the reaction was somehow related to the note's closing statements, about wanting their friendship back, the one they'd had before. Something about that had made Duo shut down. 

He realized his hands had become tight fists around handfuls of hair. Heero consciously forced himself to relax, breathing deeply through his nose. Maybe everything he'd suspected really was true. Duo didn't want him here, didn't like him, would reluctantly accept his partnership but didn't want his friendship. 

A motorcycle engine sounded in the distance, and Heero instinctively looked up. Someone had pulled up alongside the park, and was now walking towards him with a casual loping stride. 

"Nice night for star-gazing," the Heavyarms pilot commented. 

"If we had stars to look at," Heero replied. 

A smile darted across the tall man's lips as Trowa seated himself. The two men gazed across the small park in quiet contemplation before Trowa lay back, supporting his upper body on his elbows and stretching his long legs in front of him. 

"You're in," the taller man said. 

Heero looked over, an eyebrow raised. In the dark, Trowa caught only the quick jerk of the other man's head, and chuckled softly. 

"Duo told me," Trowa explained equitably. "Caught me on my way out the door." 

"What does that mean?" 

"Means we tell you what's going on," came the reply. 

"But only because Duo says so," Heero muttered. 

"He was the one holding things up," Trowa said, his jacket rustling as he shrugged. "Hilde and I would've told you after the first job." 

"Not before?" 

"Not until we knew your loyalties." 

Heero mulled that over. "Fair enough. But now..." He snorted. "I guess everything's right with the world." 

There was a pause, before Trowa spoke, his voice even lower. "You don't sound too thrilled." 

"I don't know." Heero leaned back, letting his hands drop in his lap. "Duo read my note...and then...he just..." He shrugged helplessly, a small movement. His face was tense, his lips tight. "He's not happy." 

"What did he say?" Trowa's voice was gentle, smooth. Somehow he managed to imply curiosity, a willingness to listen, and understanding if Heero chose to remain silent, all at the same time. 

"I had concluded by saying I wanted to be friends again, like we were. He repeated that statement..." Heero sighed, and repeated Duo's words softly. "Friends like we were." 

"Like you _were_?" Trowa's leaned his head back, and his hair fell away from his face as he startled Heero by laughing out loud. Heero frowned and brought bring his knees up under his chin, clasping his hands across his shins. 

"I don't get what's so funny," he muttered. 

Trowa's laughter died away, and he shook his head, a wry smile still playing on his lips. "I didn't think you would," he said. "But...friends like you were? Heero, you can be so blind sometimes." 

"Blind?" Heero's tone was quietly indignant. 

"You weren't friends," Trowa replied blandly. 

Heero frowned as he digested Trowa's comment. Unable to find the words, he settled for staring at the other man, confusion obvious in the way his brows knitted and the stunned, soft openness of his mouth. 

"No, you weren't," Trowa continued. "None of us, except maybe Quatre, were ever Duo's friends. Hilde tried, but wasn't...Sometimes I think I am, now. Sometimes I remember I'm not." 

Heero said nothing, but turned his head away from Trowa, rather than risk the other man seeing the hurt flooding his system. Heero wasn't willing to trust that the colony's half-darkness would hide the expression before he could mask it. 

"We were comrades, partners. Brothers-in-arms." Trowa's eyebrows were raised, his expression amused. "Duo never let us be friends with him, except for Quatre. But then, Quat was the only one who really tried. We were too busy believing in Duo's smiles. We needed him to be that cheerful fool, and that meant we couldn't allow ourselves to know him." 

"We _did_ know him," Heero insisted, and ducked his head. "He was one of us." 

"Which made him loyal to you, when you were there. And it made him hate you, when you left." 

"No," Heero whispered, impetuously. "We were friends." 

"Maybe he was _your_ friend, then," Trowa amended. Silence reigned until Trowa glanced at Heero's down-turned face. When the Heavyarms pilot spoke again, his voice was low and gentle. "Who are your friends, Heero?" 

The dark-haired man mused over the question. "Bernie...my agent. And Dr. Hannigan. And...you four. Maybe Relena, too." 

"It's been five years." 

"It's not like I enjoyed leaving the first time," Heero snapped. "But I...had to. I needed..." 

"It's okay," Trowa interjected smoothly. "I do understand." 

"So how long am I supposed to suffer to make up for it? How long is Duo going to keep hurting me for leaving, for coming back?" Heero couldn't mask the resentment seeping into his words, even as his voice dropped to a whisper. "And how can he do it so easily? It's like he doesn't have to try, and it hurts just to be near him..." 

"How so?" 

"My chest..." Heero scowled as Trowa canted his head at the Wing Zero pilot. Those cat-slant green eyes, studying him so thoroughly despite the soft darkness around them both. Heero looked away, his face flushing. "When Duo said that to me at the club...The way he looked, how he spoke...and I couldn't breathe. Like someone had punched me so deeply, their fist was buried..." He shrugged, almost imperceptibly, and gave up. 

There was a long silence. Trowa's gaze shifted to look out across the park. Heero stared down at the grass glowing softly from the distant colony nightlights. 

"I live with that everyday," Trowa whispered. 

Heero raised his head, perplexed. 

"It's called heartache," the other man said, sitting up to cross his legs under him. A small bitter smile played at the edges of his lips before disappearing. "I take it this is a new experience for you." 

Heero thought about the question, and the sensation, for several minutes before shrugging again. "I don't know. Yeah." His brows were furrowed in concentration. "What do you mean..." 

"Quatre," Trowa said. The auburn-haired man let his chin drop, and his hair swung down to cover his eyes, hiding him from Heero's confused gaze. 

"You miss him?" 

"Like I'm missing body parts, or oxygen." Trowa's voice cracked, and he kept his head down, but Heero could see the other man's hands fisting in the grass. 

Heero studied his fingers for several minutes before finding his voice again. "Why did you leave?" 

"I couldn't stay." 

"Because Duo asked you to go?" 

"No." Trowa raised his head, fixing Heero with an unreadable expression. "Duo asked Quatre for help, not me. I told you, I have not always been Duo's friend." 

Heero didn't say anything, but his expression displayed his bewilderment. Trowa shook his head, his eyes downcast again. There was a pause, as the taller man rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand before speaking again. 

"Quatre couldn't go, and he didn't want me to. I presume he told you I was studying veterinary medicine?" 

Heero nodded, waiting silently without interrupting. 

"It was...hell," Trowa said, with a soft groan as his eyes closed, remembering. "Surrounded by kids whose hardest decision was probably which movie to see on a Friday night...I was suffocating. I'm not a college student. I'm a soldier. I don't belong in the university's hothouse environment. But Quatre wanted me to stay where I was, not get involved." 

When Trowa didn't continue, Heero risked speaking, but kept his voice to a subdued level. "He wants you to be safe." 

Trowa grunted, a sound somewhere between amused and irritated. "During wartime, I tried to protect him. Come peacetime," Trowa's voice turned biting. "He protected me...from the fact that the world didn't need me anymore." The Heavyarms pilot sighed. "We were duty-bound, as brothers-in-arms, to aid Duo when he asked. And I went, because Duo needed us...and I went, because Quatre refused to need me more." 

Heero raised an eyebrow, tilting his head in confusion. Trowa noticed the silent movements and sighed again, that quick smile pulling at the edges of his lips before fading. 

"I'm in love with him, Heero. I have been, ever since Mariemaia." 

"Ah." Heero didn't know what to say, and exhaled slowly. His head was swirling from the overwhelming amount of information hitting him without warning. He let his hands fall from his shins and folded his legs back under him in a fluid motion before hesitantly asking the question tugging at his mind. "I guess this isn't good?" 

"Quatre's Muslim." Trowa scratched his chin and shrugged a little. "The Neo-Muslims have accepted homosexuality for over three hundred years now. But the Old Muslims don't, and Quatre's father was Old Muslim. Quat still worships his father's memory, even if his sisters are all Neo-Muslim, like his mother was." 

Heero contemplated this news, and finally decided he had no response. The stillness stretched out until Trowa spoke again, his words no louder than breathing. 

"He loves me. He says he does, but dishonoring his father's memory...he won't cross that line." 

Heero couldn't help it; he laughed, a sharp barking sound. "Quatre tried to kill both of us, and took out an entire colony. He'd killed in battle before and after that. That alone goes against everything his father stood for, I thought." 

"The heart doesn't understand logic," Trowa agreed softly. "Which is why my heart still aches, even though I know it's better to be alone. It hurt, being his friend, wanting more and being denied. At least this way I'm achieving something, if I'm going to hurt regardless." 

Heero nodded, understanding completely and knowing Trowa understood his silence perfectly in return. The two ex-soldiers stayed where they were until the colony's lights shifted, indicating the passage of another hour. Finally Trowa stirred, and stood up with a sigh. He brushed at the back of his jeans while the Wing Zero pilot pulled on his socks and shoes and stood up as well. 

"Guess we should head back," Trowa commented dryly. "Besides, Duo'll be back in another hour. Jeet's gonna need all the help he can get." 

Heero grunted, a questioning sound. 

"Duo can hold liquor better than anyone, unless he chooses not to. When I saw him last, he didn't look like he was doing much choosing." Trowa shrugged and led the way to his bike. 

* * *

The cab honked twice when it pulled up at the station's entrance, and the sound echoed through the silent docking bays all the way back to Hilde's ship. Heero yawned, waiting on the cargo area's back step with a mug of tea. Trowa had won the coin toss and gone to bed. Hilde was still out; Trowa had said she usually crashed at Enny's and came back in the morning. 

Groggy, Heero watched as Jeet approached with the thief in tow. Duo's arm was over the blue-haired boy's shoulders, and Jeet had both his arms around Duo's waist. Both of them were swaying as they walked. 

Heero put down his mug of tea and yawned again as the two stumbled into the cargo area. He sighed and came to his feet, prepared to catch Duo once he realized the thief's eyes were completely closed. The young man's feet were moving, but the action appeared to be mostly automatic. 

Jeet glared at Heero, but didn't protest when Heero slipped a shoulder under Duo's free arm. 

"I'll take him," Heero said. "If you tap on Trey's door, and he's still awake, there's fifty credits for your efforts." He was mildly disgusted at the message, but the small voice in Heero's head reminded him that at this point Jeet was likely the only pleasure Trowa was allowing himself. A number of things made more sense, on a deeper level, after that talk in the park. 

Jeet paused for a second, then nodded curtly, slipping past Heero into the ship. Heero could hear a light tapping, followed by Trowa's muffled voice granting entrance. With a quick last look down the corridor, Jeet entered Trowa's and Heero's bunkroom. Heero sighed and hefted Duo's barely vertical dead weight, taking a left into Duo's and Hilde's empty bunkroom. 

Heero didn't turn on the lights once the door slid open, but let the dim hallway lights allow him a quick glance around the room. The door shut behind them, and it wasn't long before Heero had placed Duo on the near end of the bunk. The longhaired man tilted to one side, his breathing low and soft, a quiet purring sound as he breathed through his nose. Heero realized the band was gone from the end of Duo's braid, and it was quickly falling into even greater disarray. 

The dark-haired man scratched his head as he stood in the dark room and tried to decide how best to deal with the unconscious thief. Presently Heero sighed and knelt down in front of Duo, unlacing one of the boots and tugging it off, followed by Duo's sock. At the touch of his hands on the now bare foot, Duo stirred. 

"Jeet," he slurred. "Don' touch me. G'way." 

Heero paused, letting his eyes finish adjusting before he was able to see that Duo's eyes were closed. The thief's head lolled to one side, his shoulder resting against the headboard. Slowly Heero reached for the other foot, still encased in a black combat boot. 

"Wors' fuckin' night," Duo mumbled. 

Heero froze again, waited until Duo's breathing was even, and started unlacing the boot. He'd nearly gotten it off when Duo jerked slightly. Only Heero's fast reflexes kept Duo's foot from connecting squarely with his groin. Growling under his breath, the Wing Zero pilot held the thief's foot steady as he waited. 

"Jeeeeet," Duo whined softly. "Wanna' take sho'r...Ge' offa me. Gonna..." His eyes still closed, Duo pulled his feet under him and braced his hands on the edge of the bunk. Startled, Heero came to his feet in just enough time to get Duo by the shoulders and push him back down. Duo didn't protest, but merely sunk back down. A second later his head had hit the bunk headboard wall with a solid thud, and his breathing evened out again. 

Rolling his eyes, Heero yanked the second boot off, and pulled the jeans leg up, grabbing the sock and pulling it off in a quick motion. At that point, though, he hesitated. Should he remove more? Should he leave Duo like he was? Should he tuck Duo into bed? What do friends do? 

Forget it, Heero's mind taunted, you're not Duo's friend. You're just his comrade. Fine, Heero retorted silently, what do comrades do? Leave a drunk co-terrorist to fend for himself? Or strip him? Heero's inner argument was interrupted by another garbled comment from the drunken man. 

"Wanna sho'r, get th' stink offa me," Duo said, bringing one hand up to rub his face, but he miscalculated and ended up slapping himself in the cheek. Duo frowned distantly, brought his hand up slower the second time, and rubbed his nose carefully. "Screw'up day, screw'up night. Fuckin' sucked, y'know, Jeet, y'know wha' mean?" 

Heero didn't say anything, but stood up, taking Duo under the arms, and lifting the Deathscythe pilot. Duo's head fell forward with the motion, his arms hung down limply, and he didn't react until Heero had set him down in the middle of the bunk. 

"Don' touch," Duo snapped suddenly, his fist flying out blindly. Heero threw himself to the side just in time, and Duo's fist merely glanced off Heero's cheek. The dark-haired man grimaced, rubbing his cheek, and took a deep breath, holding it for a second before slowly releasing it. 

"Don' touch me," Duo repeated, softer this time as he slumped to the side. Heero caught him in time, guiding Duo to the mattress until his head hit the pillow. Duo was still muttering, his voice just barely audible. "Ta' th' credits an' g'way. Y' got wha' ya wan', ev'one saw we lef' tagetha'..." The words drifted into inaudible mumbling. 

Duo's skin was damp from the club, and his clothes were soaked with sweat. Heero sighed. The station bay's colony cold would be seeping into the ship in another hour, and it'd be sure to give Duo a chill. Put him under the covers at least, the small voice said. He thinks you're Jeet anyway, so what difference does it make what you do? 

Heero's breath caught in his throat as his gaze traveled down the planes and angles of Duo's prone body. There was barely enough light to highlight Duo's chest, the curving ripple of ribs leading into a cavity of a flat stomach ridged by lean muscles. The v-shape framing Duo's abdomen sank like a calyx into the vase-mouth of the low-slung jeans. Long, slender legs, the curve of the thigh balancing neatly against the powerful calves. Duo muttered something in his sleep, turning his head to the side to nuzzle his face into the pillow. 

If I touch now, Heero thought, a wild passing idea, Duo would never know. He'd blame it all on Jeet. Heero's hand trembled as he brought it out, raising it up to stare at it for a long minute before dropping it slowly. 

No, he told himself. 

Shaking his head at his own crazy thoughts, Heero took a hold of Duo's legs, lifting them up long enough to yank the bed sheets and blanket out from under the drunken man. The movement brought a flurry of slurred comments from the other end of the bunk. 

"G' blow som'n else, Jeet," Duo breathed, his eyes squeezed tight, his fingers plucking at the cuffs of his shirtsleeves. "No'me, no' more. Tire' of it, does no goo'...Sick a'..." The longhaired man's voice faded away. 

Heero draped the sheet and blanket over Duo, and again found himself wishing it were possible to convince himself it'd be okay to put his fingers on Duo's bare skin, just one time. Only once, the little voice begged. Duo would never know. I could go back to being ignorant, having proven to myself that it means nothing to me. 

Heero's hand reached out, almost against his will. He watched with a distant fascination as his fingertips brushed Duo's forehead, pushing the sweat-matted bangs out of Duo's still-tensed eyes. 

At the touch, Duo relaxed a little, sighing softly. Emboldened, Heero let his fingers hover over Duo's temple. He ran his fingers lightly down Duo's silken cheek, then back up and down again to follow the jaw line, freezing when Duo's face turned towards the touch. In the dark, Heero couldn't make out Duo's expression, but he jerked his hand away when he heard the thief's faint whisper. 

"Jeet, I like ya, y'know, but yer not tha one...you'll neve' be tha one..." Duo's eyes were opening to slits, the light from the porthole igniting the unfocused pupils. In the station bay's nighttime lighting, Duo's iris rims shone like two silver sickles. 

Heero backpedaled rapidly and was out of the bunkroom faster than he'd moved in several years, and nearly as silently. He wasn't sure whether Duo had seen him, or whether the man was even remotely lucid enough to register his helper's identity. Standing in the hallway, Heero braced his back against the bunkroom door, letting his head fall back as he tried to catch his breath. There was a soft murmur of conversation coming from Trowa's bunkroom. 

A few minutes later the other bunkroom door slid open and Jeet came out. He was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, a satisfied expression on his face. The blue-haired boy glared at Heero, raising his eyebrows as he stared pointedly at the door Heero was blocking. 

Heero shook his head, then dug in his pocket and dragged out twenty-five credits. 

"What's this?" Jeet looked confused, but took the money. 

"That's for bringing him back in one piece," Heero said, crossing his arms. "Now leave so I can close up for the night." 

"I'm not done here yet," Jeet said, his tone warning. 

"Shut up," Heero retorted, his exhaustion suddenly overridden by sheer annoyance. "You are done. Day doesn't want to see you, doesn't want to be touched by you, but he's willing to pay you so you can save face." 

"I don't believe you. You're keeping him to yourself." 

"Fuck you." The dark-haired man's voice was pure ice. "He thought I was you. I'm not part of this picture." 

There was a long pause. Jeet's body language seemed to melt, his youth becoming more pronounced as he stepped down from the confrontation. 

"I get it," the boy whispered. "That's the problem, isn't it." 

Heero raised an eyebrow, unmoving. 

"You're not in the picture either," Jeet said, a sage, sorrowful tone. "Sucks, doesn't it? Who doesn't wanna be with him so badly? But you know, same as me, when he looks at you, it's never _you_ that he's seeing." 

Heero didn't respond, but kept his face perfectly neutral. Jeet's mouth curled up, a touch, at one end, and a dimple flashed momentarily in his cheek, giving him a childlike look for that single second. The blue-haired whore shoved the money in his pocket with a shrug. 

"Sucks," the boy repeated softly, his footfalls nearly silent on the cargo area's grated floor. Jeet hopped off the rear ledge without a backwards look, strolling off across the station docking bay. Heero could just barely hear a jaunty whistle floating back in the air towards him, and he punched in the code to lockdown the ship, and then headed off to bed. 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, own a copy of Tank Girl...in Chinese! The problem is that it's all in traditional characters, and my dictionaries are in simplified. Bet the damn thing was printed in Taiwan. Hmmm. Sue me, and you might get the Tank Girl traditional-character Chinese translation comic. Uh-oh. I wonder if the Naruto I ordered is also in traditional characters... 

Lainwyn: I think for Trowa, Duo just might be Captain Obvious – or maybe that's Heero. Either way, I'd bet you're liking (or at least, I'm hoping you're liking) the interaction this chapter. Honestly, I'm not sure it worked properly, but I'm too tired to tweak further. 

Sawdust monster: HAH! Another chapter! Plicken THAT, baby! ;-) 

Kiya Sama: Ah, a sympathetic Heero, and it only took me twenty chapters to get there. Or maybe I need to come up with less involved plot lines. I know, I know, hard to wait for the physical elements, but I'm still debating whether I can continue posting on FF.net, or whether I'll just do separate chapters for over and under R-rating. I also decided to push another plot line forward, which means Duo and Heero will have to wait. But not for toooo long... 

Dyna: I had expected Duo to cut Heero some slack, but every time I tried to write that scene it came out wrong. I guess the Duo I've created here is just a little more stubborn (and self-respecting) than I expected. He's got a sense of how he wants to be treated, and it appears he's not willing to deviate from that intent. 

SilverCaladan: You're right, Heero was discounting what he saw – good point. That's why I put in a bit at the beginning of this chapter, where Heero goes back and reconsiders, analyzes further. I didn't write what Heero put in the note, however, because I think much of what he'd wanted to say has already been covered. Besides, writing it out would mean some serious careful word choices to make sure it wouldn't be anything to upset the oh-so-prickly version of Duo I seem to have developed. (Btw, glad you liked the commentary!) 

Aryl: Very glad Heero's realization came across well; I was worried, because it's not the normal process (for most people) when discovering their sexuality. Then again, most people have some clue by their late teens, so Heero's his own case in that respect. As for responses, I just like the interaction, as though it's a conversation being carried on outside and around the story. Besides, if you're going to go through the effort of writing, the least I could do is go through the effort of responding! (Oh, and I think there'll be a happy ending. Probably. Mostly.) 

CinC: Actually, I think Heero's still pretty insecure in some ways. Remember that he had that whole thing about keeping the camera between himself and his subjects, as a way to protect himself. Either way, I don't think Heero's really had a great deal of reinforcement that he's good-looking. Add to that the fact that many strong introverts see themselves as less attractive compared to extroverts (like Duo) who attract attention like bugs to a zapper. Finally, I'm sure you're pleased to see that in the next chapter things will start getting explained as to what the trio is doing on L2 running around with the syndicate... 

With additional thanks to Cold Silence, tat_brown, Miss Conception, and Rosemary, for their eList encouragements and feedback. 


	22. hope despite the times

**01 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

We are young despite the years   
We are concern   
We are hope despite the times  
― Michael Stipe 

The forum was empty, and Heero yawned, sipping the harsh coffee as he waited for one of the hackers to log on. It was hours earlier than he usually appeared, but the Wing Zero pilot wasn't certain when he'd next be able to stop by. 

Frustrated, he checked the clock again. Eight-thirty, standard time. Duo and Trowa had been sleeping, the ship's lights still dim, when he left. Thanks to Duo's hangover, the thief would probably sleep for another few hours; hopefully Trowa would also sleep in. The last thing Heero wanted was to have them assume his absence meant he didn't want an explanation. 

He sighed and tapped his fingers on the keyboard, anxious. The girl over at the counter knocked several things together as she finished cleaning up during a lull in the morning rush. The clatter echoed in the back of Heero's skull, and he stared off across the net café's empty work areas. 

"Asswipe! Clear the decks!" 

Heero saw the forum window flash to indicate an avatar's entry. He smirked as he caught the Hand's response to the smiley-face avatar indicating a guest user. 

"Wing here," Heero typed. He provided no other explanation, and realized he no longer needed one. The greeting was enough. 

"Hey, hey," Mike replied. "Rat should be here in a minute. You're keeping strange hours, man." 

"Same for you," the photographer replied. "Shouldn't you be in school?" 

"Flu," the hand said, and promptly gave Heero the bird right as Rat entered. 

"That'd better not be for me," Rat snapped, and kicked Mike. 

"Wing here," the photographer said, reintroducing himself as the Hand immediately reappeared. The rat avatar wiggled its whiskers as Heero kept typing. "Don't have long. Any news?" 

"We decrypted the bank transfer files." 

"Snake did the first one," Mike added. 

"And?" Heero sat forward on his seat, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. 

"They're not text files." Rat's avatar smirked as a forum address appeared on the next line. "Click on that," he instructed. When Heero did, a secondary window opened. It was an image. After a moment, the image resolved itself. 

The dark-haired man grunted in surprise. It was Trowa. 

The Heavyarms pilot was leaning over the videogame console, his profile to the camera, which was angled up and high above him. He didn't appear to be aware of the camera. As far as Heero had been able to tell, Hilde and Trowa believed the only devices on the ship were listening, not watching; it was possible Duo had additional devices set up for his own purposes. 

If so, perhaps the only purpose was capturing images of Trowa, Heero theorized. Rat had entered four more forum addresses, and each one was another picture of Trowa. Eating dinner, piloting the ship, sleeping on the gathering room sofa, working on his bike. And all of the images were sent to Quatre's address. Heero remembered the video capture shots on the table at the house in Paris, and nearly choked on his breath. 

"All the files are like this?" Heero asked. 

"Yup," Rat replied. "Same encoding, but we only opened these five." 

"It's another Gundam pilot," Mike burst in. "Am I right?" 

Heero paused, then gave up with a small grin. "Yeah," he said. "But no need to let it get out." 

"Consider them forgotten," Rat replied. 

"Thanks, and I'll check in again when I can," Heero replied, and cut the connection. 

* * *

Hilde was lying across the lounge in the gathering room, watching a video when Heero returned. He leaned against the doorjamb, his arms crossed, as he watched the girl stretch indolently. She sat up on her elbows and cocked her head at the dark-haired pilot. 

"Get me some water, wouldya?" 

Heero smirked, and a minute later was handing her a glass of water. She took it with a weak smile, drank it all without pause, and set the glass down on the low table. 

"Day's awake," she said. "When he gets out of the shower, go with him. He's got to finish the decryption program, and the ship's systems can't handle the processing right now." 

"Oh?" Heero caught the emphasis on the last two words. He raised his eyebrows at the blank system monitor in the wall of the gathering room. 

"Trey's compiling the programs attached to the modifications Day made yesterday, and the ship's too much like Day." She shrugged and lay back down, grinning wickedly. "Short attention span, multi-tasking challenged, y'know." 

"Hn." 

Heero heard the bathroom door swish open, and noticed Duo exiting. The man was leaning over and squeezing long strands of his hair between a towel as he walked. There was a palm-sized tattoo on his left shoulder blade, but Heero couldn't catch a good look. Duo was wearing black jeans, and nothing else, revealing pale skin, streaked by the white of old scars. He didn't look up as he headed straight back to the right-hand bunkroom. 

Heero refilled Hilde's water glass without having to be asked, and waited, watching the movie absent-mindedly. Five minutes later Duo reappeared, his hair braided roughly, wearing a black long-sleeved shirt, and his long black coat. There was a satchel over his shoulder. 

"Trey's got the keys," Duo announced, his eyes sliding past Heero to rest on Hilde. The girl grinned, a lazy expression matching Duo's flashing smile. 

"He's not going to give them to you," she said. 

Duo snorted. 

"She's right." Trowa's even baritone came from behind Heero. Before he could turn around, a set of keys was being dangled in front of his face. Trowa laughed softly. "Hito, you drive. Don't let that maniac pilot anywhere near my bike." 

"Maniac?" Duo made a face, and laughed. "You're letting Hito drive? After he killed a hundred and seventeen pedestrians in Universal Auto?" 

"Good point." Trowa's keys stopped jangling. "Both of you, take a cab." 

Heero grabbed the keys before Trowa could pull them away. "We'll be fine," the dark-haired man said, and headed towards the exit without a second look. Duo realized his intent a half-second later, and was quickly on his tails. Both men were chased from the ship by Hilde's catcalls. 

"Don't forget to write," she called. "But no cookies for you if you smash the bike!" 

* * *

Heero ended up driving after Duo agreed to be pillion, if only because the headache medicine still hadn't kicked in. At each corner, Duo would mutter directions in Heero's ear, just barely audible over the engine's racing hum. 

"When we get there, follow my lead," Duo said at one intersection. 

The photographer thought about this as he carried out Duo's navigation through the Sector. The scenery changed from the industrial elements of Sector Four, into the lower-income working class environment of Sector Three. 

"It won't always make sense, but it's not for your benefit," Duo said at another stop sign. "Take a right here." 

Several blocks past before Heero realized Duo was continuing the line of conversation he'd intermittently introduced on the short trip. As far as Heero could tell, Duo was going to be the one to speak, but some part of the speaking was dangerous. Or, Heero contemplated, it was getting to the safe speaking location that was hazardous. 

"Best if you say as little as possible until I say otherwise," Duo said. 

Heero nodded. I can do that, he thought. I have no idea what to say, anyway. He was too busy feeling Duo's back against his own, too busy trying to ignore Duo's arms around his waist. It felt comfortable. It felt like they were fifteen again, before he'd ever hurt Duo. At the next light, Heero spoke first. 

"Do you still play basketball?" 

There was a pause, and then Duo tapped Heero on the left knee. "Left here, and park halfway down the block." He didn't reply to Heero's question. 

Once off the bike, Duo unlocked a door tucked into the wall between a Chinese herbalist and a pizza delivery shop. The door led to a flight of stairs lit by a dusty light bulb. The stairs creaked under Heero's weight, and he noticed Duo's passage was silent. Cat-light feet, Heero thought, or simply a facet of knowing the stairs so well the thief could avoid every ill-met panel and ancient creak. 

At the top of the stairs, Duo unlocked a second door and ushered Heero into the small apartment over the herbalist shop. The front living room was bare of all but a mattress, several boxes, and two sofa cushions. From his place by the front door, Heero could see a kitchenette, a bathroom, and what would probably be a bedroom at the back of the apartment. Every visible floor surface was covered with a nasty lime-green vinyl material. The cabinets in the kitchen were metal, painted in a lurid avocado. Heero winced, hit with temporary homesickness for his L1 apartment. 

Duo had dropped his coat on the floor, by the door, and Heero slipped off his own jacket and dropped it next to Duo's. 

"Help yourself to reading material," Duo was saying as he put his satchel down in the center of the room, then kicked the two sofa cushions over to sit next to it. Heero glanced at the boxes. One was over-filled with tattered comic books. The other two boxes were piled high with game and videodisks. It took a second for Heero to realize Duo was waving him away from the boxes and over to the sofa cushions, and directing him to sit. 

Seating himself cross-legged on one of the cushions, Heero watched carefully, trying to puzzle out Duo's lecture. 

"This is going to take at least three hours," Duo was saying. "Hopefully you can stay housebroken for that long." He'd pulled out a trim black folder that turned out to be a laptop. Flipping the top open, Duo knelt, typing in rapid-fire commands until the screen glowed. From Heero's line of sight the screen was black, but the screen's light reflected off Duo's hands in the apartment's mid-morning gloom. 

Duo then brought out a device about the size of a remote control, as long as his hand, a few inches wide, and a half-inch thick. He noticed Heero's puzzled expression, and flashed another Cheshire grin as he slipped a sky-blue romchip from his pocket and pushed it into a waiting slot on one end of the device. He connected the device to the laptop and sat back, watching the screen for several seconds. 

"I'm going to get some sleep," Duo said in a slightly sterner tone, but Heero was puzzled to see Duo winking at him. "Wake me only if it's the second coming or you like an early death." 

Heero nodded, his brow furrowed, but remained silent. Duo grinned again, and pulled a short metal tube from the satchel. Twisting the bottom a half-turn, he studied the red lights at the opposite end before setting it on end in front of Heero. He then pulled out four blue plastic boxes, each the size of a cigarette case. 

Dropping three in his lap, Duo studied one end and expertly flipped several toggle switches, watched the lights flickering on the metal tube, and then flipped several more of the toggles. After a pause, Duo nodded in satisfaction and gathered up the three other boxes, flipping their toggles to match the first box. He then set the four boxes in a square around Heero, and pushed the laptop and romchip reader outside the perimeter. 

"Stuff to drink is in the fridge," Duo then said, jerking his head towards the kitchenette. Taking the hint, Heero got up, coming back a minute later with two bottles of lemonade. 

Duo beckoned him back to his spot as the longhaired man pulled off his boots and threw them across the room to land next to the coats. Heero followed suit, although less noisily, preferring to lean over and place his boots quietly outside the square's perimeter. Duo watched, flipping open a butterfly knife and using the handle to pop the tops on the bottles. 

"You still strong enough to do that with the skin on your forearm?" Duo's tone was conversational. Heero gaped, and the Deathscythe pilot laughed, a faintly hollow sound. "We're in a dead zone, now. That lovely gadget in front of you is a dampener, and those strange blue boxes are broadcasters. If anyone's listening ― and someone probably is ― all they're going to hear is what sounds like snoring and pages being turned." 

"This is all planned?" Heero took a sip of the lemonade and stared at the nearest blue box. 

"Hilde and I created it, a year ago. It's useful for when the three of us needed to discuss things without our neighbors catching the details." Duo shrugged, and another grin slid across his face, a casual action. "We can't do it often, since it'd look suspicious if we had to use this old place too much, instead of decrypting on the ship's systems." 

"You're sure it works?" 

"As sure as we can be," Duo said. There was a momentary uncertainty in Duo's eyes. It was gone as soon as it appeared, to be replaced with that easy-going expression Heero remembered so well. 

There was a moment's pause. Heero stared at the dampening device, and wondered whether he was supposed to repeat what he'd said in the note. He fingered the label on the bottle and thought about whether he should say something about what Trowa had said, about not having been Duo's friend. 

Duo spoke first. 

"You've stuck it out this long," he said, with a soft laugh. "Now you get to hear the rest of the story, I guess." Duo took a long swig from the bottle and stared across the apartment, away from Heero's even gaze. When he spoke again, his voice was low and melodious, but devoid of emotion. 

"And since the best place to start is at the beginning..." Duo grinned, and did a little bow from the waist. His blue eyes were nearly purple in the unlit apartment. "June before last, I was asked to join the Preventers for an undercover case..." 

* * *

Lady Une had come to L2 for a political conference, and made a point of arranging a visit with Duo. He had just finished his third year exams in the school of engineering and technology on L2, and had a day to kick around before a two-week stint with the Sweepers during his early summer break. The Preventers needed someone who could hold his own in a tight spot, think fast, and had ties to the Sweepers. Duo was the obvious choice, between his history, his skills, and his contacts. It also meant additional income, although he wouldn't be on the front line and wouldn't be officially listed as part of the operation. His role was merely to act as a backup and contact point for the person going undercover. Duo was granted the title Une had originally set aside for him: Agent Night. 

Two weeks later Duo met Joe Casserly, also known as Agent Shark. Joe was from L1, first-generation, his parents immigrants from Jamaica. He'd worked as a Gundam mechanic on Earth for OZ, and had been with the Preventers during Mariemaia. Joe's mission was to infiltrate the syndicate and find evidence of gun smuggling. If he did, the mission would be bolstered with additional personnel and funding. Not finding proof could also be a successful mission, as there had only been general rumors so far. None of the rumors warranted sending in a complete team. 

Joe's entry was through the Sweepers, courtesy of Duo's introductions. From there, the undercover agent was able to extend his influence outwards, moving from the aboveboard Sweepers actions to the shadier side of the Sweepers world. Even as he moved into the underground, Duo's name and reputation carried weight, as a mechanic and a thief. Duo wasn't known as Duo, however; Duo had taken the name of David Waters when he'd entered the L2 engineering university. 

At this point in the story, Duo took pity on Heero's inquisitive look, with a soft laugh. "Waters," he said. "As in...Wells? Max Wells? Water, Wells, get it?" 

Heero nodded, vaguely. He seemed to recall Max Wells being one of the pseudonyms Duo had used during the war, and at other points when carrying on in less than legit operations. Duo shrugged and continued with the story. 

Howard acted as vouchsafe for the entity David Waters, also known as Day Waters, who in turn vouched for the entity known as Joe Cassidy. It was a complex series of ties, but required. The Sweepers weren't known for outright trust, and it would require more than one person to get Joe through any doors. Having a reference for a reference was the safest way to maneuver into the underside of the Sweeper operations. 

After a month, Joe returned to L2, and stayed with Duo at the apartment they'd set up as home base for the duration of the operation. Hilde visited under pretense of being Duo's sister, although her own apartment in Sector 1 was where Duo had lived prior to the assignment. He had to be available for reference backup for Joe should anyone in the Sweepers want to check to make sure Joe's references still held water. 

Duo laughed at his own joke and finished his lemonade. He wiped his mouth with his shirtsleeve and went back to the story. 

Joe started visiting Duo between Sweeper trips, and Hilde made appearances more often. The three became good friends, and Joe was making progress, providing encoded reports that Duo would send to Lady Une. Sometimes he sent the files piggybacked on apparently unsolicited advertisements; other times he'd hack into Preventers systems and leave the reports on Une's desktop. 

Just before the operation was to end, Joe discovered something. Whatever it was, it was enough to make Une decide to keep Joe in the line of fire. Duo wasn't sure what this news was, as he never read the encoded reports; he merely delivered them, if in as many obnoxious ways as possible. Une responded, uncharacteristically, breaking her radio silence to have Hilde deliver the message that Joe's mission was extended another six months. The only change Duo could honestly report was that Joe had been invited into the syndicate, as an operator. Joe, in other words, was running a team much like Hilde was now running their team. 

Five months later - a month before the extension ended – Joe came to see Duo and Hilde with another encoded report. Duo forwarded it as usual. 

Two weeks later Joe was dead. 

Duo smirked at Heero, and got up to get another lemonade. His socked feet padded softly across the vinyl floor. He didn't offer one to Heero, who'd barely touched his own after the first few sips. The photographer had forgotten all about the drink, too busy focusing on the story. Duo seated himself again, popped off the top, and got back to the story. 

Une came to see Duo, several weeks after Joe's death. Again she had a political venue on the colony, and met with Duo in top secret, during a time he was supposedly in logged in for class. Joe's last report had indicated that the syndicate operating on L2 had joined a loose alliance of colony syndicates that included five or six resource satellites and the syndicates from L1 and L3. The Yakuza and Mafia, back on Earth, were reportedly receiving substantial funding from operations by the various Colonial syndicates. Despite the disarmament practiced by the United Earth Sphere Alliance, gun running and weaponry sales were still strong, and thanks to the same firearms restrictions, sales of those items naturally had exorbitant profits. 

The problem was tying the sales, and the minor operatives, to the syndicate leaders. Joe had stumbled on a connection, somewhere, that was proof of a connection. Following that thread would allow the Preventers the legal grounds to shut down one or more syndicate leaders, and hopefully destroy the organizations from the top down. 

Lady Une had taken Joe's reports and presented them in her fiscal year end presentation to the United Earth Sphere Alliance President, Mr. Haune. This was a closed doors meeting, and a simple preface to the formal address she had been required to make before the Council of Cabinets and the Prime Minister. The President, in effect, was as much a figurehead as Relena had been as Queen of the World, Duo explained. But the President's right to preview was a nicety granted so he could effectively plan ahead in his political dealings, as part of his primary position as a peacekeeper. 

A day later, Une was invited to meet with the President in a follow-up meeting. During that conversation, President Haune explained that there were several projects that should be shut down as part of budget cuts. Three of the projects he recommended be closed were operations already slated for ending within a few months of the new fiscal year. The fourth project was Joe's. Lady Une reviewed his suggestions, and a week later told him she'd end the first early, and the next two on their projected closure dates. She also told Mr. Haune that Joe's operation had revealed significant connections, and in light of the potential for solid evidence, she was willing to sacrifice two additional projects to provide Joe with additional undercover backup. 

Forty-eight hours later, Joe was dead. 

His ship, Dirty Boy, exploded a half-hour outside L2's docking station. All hands on board perished. The formal cause, determined by the local authorities, was a malfunction in the Carn lines connecting the main engine to the oxygen-environment thrusters. When the lines were literally crossed, the system read the thrusters as overloaded on oxygen, and flooded the tanks. This pushed fuel back the main engines, where it caught fire from the imbalance. The rest was cascade failure. 

Duo's face was still, and his voice low. Almost too low, at times, for Heero to catch the words over the midday traffic drifting through a crack in the apartment's dirty windows. Carn lines aren't crossed normally, Duo explained. There's no need; they run through the body of the ship, from fore to aft, connecting the port rotary wing directly to the left thruster, and same for the starboard. Crossing them would require substantial effort, and would send a definite message of purposeful sabotage. 

It was clear the timing was too suspicious, but one fortunate aspect was that Duo wasn't a known part of the operation. Lady Une had never mentioned his name in her reports, nor had Joe had reason to include Duo's name or alias in a progress report. Duo, and Hilde, were able to do the one thing no one else could do, at Lady Une's request: continue the operation. 

To do that, though, they needed a way to capitalize on what Joe had done without raising questions about their purpose. In the end, Hilde provided it, and not entirely out of an altruistic goal to help the Preventers. 

Hilde wanted vengeance. 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, own a plastic bag full of keys that don't seem to be attached to anything. I think one is a set of keys from the bookstore I used to own. If you sue me, you can have those. Yeesh, I'm sedimental, err, sentimental. 

Dyna: Yup, amazing the way a skillful redirect can leave some things for later. I thought about that a great deal, whether Trowa would start talking at that point, or whether he'd be sidetracked – and while Heero wants to know what's going on, it seemed more reasonable to expect the poor Wing guy to be a little fixated. So the conversation would've dragged back around, so sooner now than later. Besides, we're starting to get more of the story in this chapter. As for the Lois Lane comment...yikes. Y'know, that simply never occurred to me. I think I need to sit down now... 

SilverCaladan: Very glad you enjoy the commentaries! I have fun writing them, even if they seem to be generally one big honkin' in-joke now, and probably only make sense if you've read both the GW fic, the SA fic(s), and plenty of my responses to get my sense of humor...And yes, you're not the only person who noticed the conversation took a left turn at Albuquerque just as Trowa seemed like he might've started to spill the beans on just what was happening with the team...But at least, hopefully, you found out more this chapter! 

Moonraven: I've not seen a review on the actual story from you – did you ever find it? Or do you just like the commentaries too much? ;-) 

Sawdust monster: *groan* Now I am imagining you in a bad seventies lime green pantsuit, digging the groovy moves. Yeah, baby! (Woot.) 

CinC: Thanks for the tip about K. Seraph's story – it's intriguing, and flattering to see I'm not the only person making certain assumptions about Heero based on what he's like in the anime. Unfortunately her writing style is radically different from mine. Having read through chapter 11 today, it made writing this chapter feel a little stilted. I'm not really liking the second half of this chapter, for that matter. I feel like we just got one big stinkin' visit from the exposition fairy...and I always hate that. The conflict between Trowa, Wufei, Quatre, Duo, Heero – it's all a matter of perspectives. It always is. So Wufei's angry, but remember his own perspective is colored by having lost something precious that he only recognized had value once it was too late. That's had a huge impact on his development as a human being. 

Kimberly1: And in the next chapter, we're going to have Duo dress up like a girl. And go sell himself, err, herself, on the street. And then Quatre will show up and be all...oh, never mind. I don't think I could write stuff like that and keep a straight face. Uh...so to speak. Anyway, very glad you like, and hopefully I'll manage to keep going! 

LadyJessy: Wait a minute...you thought the one Duo's been seeing is Heero? Uh...does the idea of "five year separation" mean anything to you? Bwahahaha. I know, I know, that's such a mean thing to say at this point – but I guess you'll just have to keep reading to find out whether I'm teasing or telling! 

GoldenRat: Oh, I don't know. I hear drugs can help with all sorts of problems. (Hehe.) Anyway, flattered you think it's deep stuff – uh, at least, I hope that's a compliment. Hmm. It is getting late, so I might be confused. That happens a lot...;-) 

Lainwyn: Would you STOP giving me strange visuals! First with the screaming like a girl, and now with the kangaroo spouting beatnik poetry! Bleah. It hadn't occurred to me, actually, that the Tank Girl comment tied in with the reference in the quote. Sheesh. Can't win for losing! Anyway, yes, Duo and Quatre seemed to be the pair in the series that were consistently and truly friends. It only makes sense that if Duo were to ask anyone for help, it would be Quatre first and foremost (even above Heero, if Heero weren't already there at Duo's side). Anyway, there's more information coming in the next chapter, that rounds out the second half of this chapter. Buried teaser: it's more emotional and instinctive than the factual stuff so far... 

Aryl: I got your review first, and you totally made my day. That last chapter – especially with Trowa being so emotionally open – really had me reviewing over and over again, worried I was being too subtle or too over-the-top. Big fat whew when I got your response! It's hard to gauge, from this end, sometimes. And I'm glad someone can see Duo's motivations, slowly taking shape, without having to hit anyone over the head with it. 

With additional thanks to Kiya Sama, Anne, CZ and Rosemary for their offline encouragement and feedback! 


	23. if the world is made amiss

**01 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

Which ever wins I am happy, for God will give me bliss,  
but no-God will absolve me from all I do amiss,  
and I need not suffer conscience if the world is made amiss  
― Louis MacNeice 

Heero shifted on the sofa cushion, trying to get feeling back into his legs. He spoke in a whisper, a faint question: "Pops said Hilde and Joe were engaged." 

"Yes and no. Joe hadn't formally asked her. He got all old-fashioned and asked me, first, for her hand." Duo's expression was haunted. Just as quickly, though, the mask fell into place and he tossed Heero that quick smile. "I never told her, until...we found the ring...after he died." 

The dark-haired man nodded, and waited. 

"Joe was cool," Duo said, quietly, his eyes unfocused. "Black guy with great dreads." He laughed softly. "Not as long as mine, though...Jamaican heritage, raised on L2. Tall as Trowa. Quiet. Athletic. He had that soft lilt. Everything he said sounded like he was singing." Duo's voice had gone softer, and his eyes were half-closed as though replaying the memories as he spoke. Heero watched, fascinated, and somewhat disturbed. 

The computer beeped, and Duo glanced over. "We're done here," he said, his face shuttering. "The computer's outside the perimeter, so the little ears just picked up the sound. Brace yourself." 

Duo picked up the dampening device, spun its base, and dropped it in the satchel. With a yawn and a popping sound, he stood up, throwing his braid behind him even as it slid forward again each time he stooped and picked up the broadcasting boxes. 

"Take whatever comics you want," Duo said. "And you owe me ten credits for finishing off all my drinks." 

"Day," Heero impulsively announced. "I don't think you're an asshole." 

"Oh?" Duo was surprised enough to stop in the middle of dropping the blue boxes into the satchel. 

Heero set his expression to neutral. "You're just an asshole when it comes to me." 

"Only 'cause you deserve the best, baby," the thief retorted, teasing. His eyes, however, were flat. "Come on, this took two hours. We've got to get back so we can start planning." 

Five minutes later everything was packed, the lemonade bottles were thrown away, and Heero was on the street, waiting on the motorcycle. Duo threw Heero the keys and climbed on behind the Wing Zero pilot. Heero looked over his shoulder at the oncoming traffic, then pulled out and away from the shopping strip. 

The afternoon traffic was heavy, and it took longer to get back to the station bay than Heero had expected. He pulled up and let the engine idle as Duo got off the bike. There were so many things he'd wanted to ask, to say, and they were still rolling around in his head to the beat of the engine's rumble. Heero realized Duo was still standing there, the satchel over his shoulder, waiting. 

"I'm..." Heero started to say, then stopped. "I'll be back shortly. Errands," he added curtly. Without waiting for Duo's response, he pulled away from the curb, his destination firmly in mind. 

* * *

At Enny's corner, Heero pulled up and waited for the pimp to appear. The cluster of girls gossiped quietly. The dark-haired man straddled the bike, letting the engine purr between his legs as he stared indifferently at their high heels and exposed cleavage. After a minute, one of the girls looked past him, and Heero instinctively turned his head to see. Jeet was coming up behind him. There was a sullen look on the kid's face, and he kicked at a piece of gravel as he came alongside the bike. 

"Jeet," Heero said. "Where's Enny?" 

"Around," the blue-haired kid said, but his tone was soft. Heero looked closer, seeing the circles under the kid's eyes, the dull brown eyes, the blue fading into a natural blond at the roots. "She'll prob'ly be back in a while. You gonna wait?" 

"Not if you can answer the question," Heero said. He sat back, letting his hands fall to his thighs, and watched the street's traffic roll past. A minute passed before he spoke again. "When Day looks...who does he see? Can you answer that?" 

"Yeah..." 

Heero glanced sharply at Jeet. The kid wasn't looking at him, but at the ground. Jeet's shoulders were slumped. "Better to show you," Jeet finally said. "You know where Day's apartment is, in Sector 3?" 

"By the Chinese herbalist?" Heero was surprised. Duo must have cleaned out the apartment of all furniture once he took over Joe's mission. 

"That's the one. Gimme fifty credits and I'll tell you whatever I can." Noticing Heero's frown, Jeet shrugged one shoulder. "Enny's gotta have her take, and this isn't a short story." 

Heero nodded, and Jeet climbed on the bike behind him. A minute later he was back in traffic, threading his way through and back to the same building he'd left only an hour before. 

* * *

Heero resettled himself cross-legged on the sofa cushion as Jeet dug into the box of comic books. Quietly and methodically the boy lifted out handfuls of books, setting them aside as he worked his way to the bottom. When the box was nearly empty, Jeet brought out a black book, wider than it was tall. He placed it gently on the floor in front of the photographer, and pulled the second cushion close. 

"Back when Joe was still alive..." Jeet swallowed hard, and knelt down on the sofa cushion next to Heero. The boy smelled like oranges and cigarette smoke, and his voice was soft and clear in the empty apartment. "Enny and Hel were friends, back then, and Enny told me about this. Day brought me here once, when he was drunk...a few months ago, I guess. He passed out, and I found this." 

Jeet leaned forward and flipped the book open. 

"That's Joe," he said, pointing at the first picture. 

A tall man, skin the color of honeyed walnuts, slender but with broad shoulders. Joe's head was cocked, his dreads swinging to the side. He'd been turning around just as he was caught by the camera. His t-shirt was yellow, and his jeans were light blue, ragged at the seams. The picture was glued onto the page, and there were no notes or comments. Blank space was around each photograph, marooning them on the black pages. 

"All three of them," Jeet said, his finger pointing at the next picture. 

Duo was sprawling on a beat-up dusty blue sofa. Heero noticed it matched the cushions he and Jeet now sat on. In the picture, the kitchenette could be seen behind the sofa. Joe was lying on the sofa, his head in Duo's lap. One of his hands lay across his chest, and the other was raised to rest on Duo's shoulder. Hilde was leaning over the back of the sofa, one hand reaching forward. After the picture was taken she'd probably fallen straight onto Joe's lap. Her hair was flying about, and Duo was grinning, looking at her rather than the camera. Joe was looking at the camera. Hilde was looking at Joe. 

"They were really close," the kid whispered. "Enny said when word came back about Joe, it was bad. Really bad." 

The next shot was of Duo sleeping, his mouth open. Joe's hand was in the corner of the picture, holding a pen as if about to draw on Duo's face. 

Jeet turned the page. 

The left-hand picture showed Hilde waving her arms madly as smoke poured from the stove. Heero's mouth quirked up at the edges, finally understanding the validity of her threats about cooking. 

The next picture showed Joe and Duo leaning against each other, standing in front of a green and red shuttlecraft. Duo was holding an air compressor nozzle. There was paint on Joe's face, and he had a crooked half-smile on his face as he looked at the camera. Duo looked like he'd been in the middle of saying something. 

Jeet turned to the next page. 

Hilde, sitting on Joe's lap. 

Joe, lying on the sofa watching television. 

Duo and Hilde, both laughing, standing by the apartment's front door. It looked to Heero as though the two friends were wrestling. The girl's expression was wicked, much like the look she got when trying to distract Heero during the video game. The Wing Zero pilot wondered if Hilde had been trying to tickle Duo when Joe took the picture. Heero wondered if Duo was ticklish. 

Jeet turned the next page, silent, respectful. 

A flyer from some band was pasted to the left side, and Heero reached out, carefully unfolding it. He stared at the band name, not recognizing it or the location of the performance. 

"Joe sometimes played," Jeet said. "He could sing, too. Enny said Joe sounded like marmalade. I'm not sure what that is." 

"Citrus fruit that's been cooked with sugar to form a jam," Heero said automatically. That small voice in his mind woke up long enough to ask how a space-living pimp would know about an Earth sphere breakfast spread. 

On the right page were two smaller snapshots. Duo and Hilde, in the kitchen. Duo was at the stove, and Hilde was talking about something as he worked. She was looking at the camera, grinning. Duo's head was down, looking at the pot in front of him. 

Joe and Duo, playing cards. Joe was looking at the cards; Duo was looking at Joe. 

"That's who he sees," Heero said, finally getting it. His deep blue eyes dragged themselves away from the scrapbook, meeting Jeet's sad brown eyes. 

"Yeah," Jeet said. "Enny said..." The kid shrugged. "No matter what happened, someone was gonna be hurt." 

Heero nodded, watching as Jeet flipped slowly through the next several pages. Joe, Duo, Hilde: alone, or in pairs, or all three. Some serious pictures, a number of candid shots, and plenty of the fooling around that comes with a friendship of three. A shot of Joe balancing a bag of rice on his head. Hilde folding clothes, wearing only her bra and underwear at the Laundromat. Duo asleep, with a brown hand holding scissors, and a pale feminine hand holding up the braid. The next photograph was a blurred shot of Duo, fleeing the scissors. 

The photographer smiled, a little, imagining the scene as Jeet turned the page. The blue-haired boy paused, his hand retracting slowly as he exhaled. Heero looked down at the pages, and his own breath caught. 

Joe, with his arm around Hilde. His crooked grin was replaced by a sweeter smile, and Hilde's chin was down. She was staring shyly at the floor, not at the camera, tucked into the space between Joe's arm and his ribs. The top of her head barely came to Joe's chin. 

Hilde and Duo, on the sofa. Duo, at one end, his legs cross-legged and pulled up, his arms around his knees as he studied a piece of machinery. A screwdriver was tucked behind the thief's ear. Hilde, at the other end, was looking off-camera, also curled up. Perhaps she was watching television. Neither seemed to be aware that Joe had taken their picture. Heero wondered what they looked like, in the next moment, after they heard the camera click. 

Heero studied the next picture. Duo, smiling, out on the street, in front of the herbalist shop. He was wearing a black long-sleeved shirt, and black jeans, and his hands were wrapped around several textbooks as he approached the camera. He was smiling. 

He stared, frowning, at the last picture of Duo for several seconds longer. A heartbeat passed and he sat back with a barely perceptible sigh. 

"You can see it," Jeet said. 

"Yeah," Heero replied. 

That picture was taken after Duo knew, Heero thought. After he knew Joe had fallen for his best friend, and not him. 

* * *

When Heero pulled up to Enny's corner, the girl was back. Jeet slipped off the back of the bike, took the fifty credits, and ducked away before Enny could holler at him. Seeing the girl wave, Heero paused and waited as she trotted over. She was wearing thicker leggings and a heavier coat, but under it he caught flashes of the sparkly blue tube-top she'd been wearing when they first met. 

"Broke down and gave in," she trilled. 

Heero glared at her and shook his head, letting the engine idle drop to a low moan. "I wanted to know about Joe," he finally said, quietly. 

Enny's eyes dropped to the ground, and slid away to focus on something up the street. Her expression was serious, and all of a sudden Heero glimpsed in Enny what he'd seen in the faces of those who fought during the wars. He wondered what Enny had done to earn her wartime eyes. 

"He showed me the scrapbook," Heero added, his fingers clenching on his thighs as he held the bike upright between his stretched legs. 

"Makes sense," Enny replied, absently. "The three of them were..." She didn't finish the sentence, her eyes empty with remembered pain. 

"It was obvious from the pictures," Heero said. 

"Maybe to you, now," the girl said, with a small smile. "It wasn't to them, not when it was happening." Enny shrugged, and her green ponytail bobbed for a second with the movement. "Even good friends can be really blind." 

Heero didn't know what to say to that, other than to nod. It was true, he thought. But if you're a friend, you take the time, make the effort, to be forgiven, to be worthy of being forgiven...and a friend gives you that time. 

* * *

Trowa was in the kitchen making coffee when Heero came up the ship's main corridor. Heero could hear Hilde's voice, but couldn't make out what she was saying. He shrugged off his coat as he grabbed one of the beers from the fridge. 

"Marching orders are decrypted," Trowa said, and popped the top off Heero's beer for him. "Ship out in two days, maybe three." 

Heero nodded and followed the taller man into the gathering room, letting his coat fall on the chair. Hilde was lying on the sofa on her stomach, her face pressed against a set of printouts as she stared at the wall across from her. One arm was draped across the sofa to hang down to the floor. Duo was sitting at the console, his feet up on the ledge as he drank straight from a frosted glass bottle. 

"Hito," Hilde said, lifting her hand from where it lay on the floor. She waved listlessly and let her arm drop again. 

Heero nodded in response and leaned against the wall as Trowa strolled over and lifted Hilde by the ankles, one-handed. Pulling slightly, he pulled her sideways until her knees hit the floor. The girl yelped indignantly and threw herself back on the sofa, this time laying on her back and planting her feet in Trowa's lap. The acrobat shrugged and leaned back, his drink balanced on Hilde's shin. 

There was a long silence, during which Duo took a few more long swallows from the bottle. Hilde stared at the ceiling, while Trowa sipped his drink. Heero watched Hilde from under lowered brows, his blue eyes dark with uncertainty. 

Something is definitely wrong, the little voice was worrying. This isn't the way they reacted to the other assignments. 

Heero was startled out of his reverie when Duo's feet came off the console, a solid thud as the boots impacted the metal floor. Duo's voice was tight, a low pitch. "There's no way," he snapped, as though continuing an argument. "We can find some other way to do this." 

"Orders are orders," Hilde replied. She turned her head, seeing Heero's raised eyebrow, and sighed. "Shit, just read it." The girl rummaged under her head and pulled out the pages. Heero leaned over, setting his beer down before taking the printouts from her. 

The room was silent again while Heero flipped through the pages, his eyes growing wider as he registered the implications. The team was to infiltrate a celebration being hosted by one of the syndicate families on L4. 

Heero glanced at Trowa, one eyebrow raised. The Heavyarms pilot appeared to be lost in his own thoughts, his eyes closed as he sipped his drink without reacting to his teammates' emotions. Heero went back to reading, noting the schematics for the hotel resort in Sector 7 on L4, the guest list, the entertainment schedule, and the meeting room arrangements. 

It dawned on him what the pages were saying, but doubting his intuition, he re-read the information. The only social meetings, in private locations, were for the organization leaders, accompanied by prostitutes and dancers. Heero scanned the information another team had hacked from the hotel's hospitality files. Prostitutes of both genders would be present, provided by two separate companies. One had an L4 address; the other had an L1 address. Dancers on the stage would be flown in from an L3 location. 

That's the oldest trick in the book, Heero thought, grumpy despite his cool exterior. Screw someone to get past their guard, hope they talk in their sleep, get lazy and start spilling their secrets. Of course, his insolent voice whispered back, people tend to speak freely even around whores. What doesn't deserve respect doesn't qualify as human, doesn't deserve to even be noticed or registered. A prostitute as cover is the oldest, and most successful, the voice said. 

"We'd need Enny and Jeet," Heero finally said. Hilde looked up, a line forming between her brows. Duo swung away with a disgusted snort, propping his feet loudly back up on the desk as he leaned back for a long swig from the bottle. 

"Wire them, and have them circulate as back-up listening," the Wing Zero pilot continued. 

"Why bother?" Hilde sat up, kicking her feet against Trowa's thighs to get leverage. She ignored his scowl, and looked past him to stare steadily at Duo's back. "We've got two right here who have the whole song and dance memorized. Just play it from the other side of the table, guys." 

Trowa's eyes narrowed dangerously. The words were hardly out of Hilde's mouth, though, and Duo was already standing, the bottle in one hand as he cried angrily, "I am not a whore, and I am not playing one for _anyone_!" 

Hilde was on her feet just as quickly. "You could've fooled me! Dress you up in leather, slap some lipstick on, and you'd beat Enny for looks. Send you in by yourself," she yelled. "You'd seduce 'em all, bar _none_!" 

Heero gripped the papers tightly, his eyes darting from Hilde to Duo, standing ten feet apart, their nostrils flaring like two dogs bracing for a showdown. 

"_Fuck you_," Duo screamed, throwing the bottle against the wall. 

It smashed, and Heero blinked as drops hit his cheek. The light glittered on the shards lodged between two books, and on the rest scattered across the floor. Liquid dropped slowly from a shelf, soaking into a game's paper cover. Heero blindly reached up, wiping the drink from his cheek, not even thinking as he lifted his fingers to his mouth. His tongue darted out to his fingertips, and he immediately recognized the taste. Vodka. Cheap vodka, he corrected himself. 

A mere heartbeat had passed since Duo had thrown the bottle. Heero was vaguely impressed that Hilde hadn't flinched at the action, or the shattering sound behind her. Trowa, meanwhile, had remained seated, his eyes fixed on a point in the middle distance. The Heavyarms' pilot's knuckles were white, holding the coffee mug. 

"You play their game if you want," Duo was shouting. "Not me. I _quit_." 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, own three pieces of triple-layer carrot cake. It's my birthday, and I'll eat what I wanna. Okay, not quite my birthday yet, but hey. Whatever. I scored Naruto Volume One, and all five Buffy episode DVDs, and you can't have either if you sue me. Nyah. 

CleverYoungThief did a picture for the story (woo hoo!) but I've not transferred it over to my site yet. Hopefully I'll do that soon, and you'll be able to see the first of what may be several. At least, CYT is now pondering doing some of the pictures from this chapter, a la scrapbook. Heh. Coolness! 

ShenLong: I did mean to do another chapter on Hills, really I did...but I guess this one was pushing a little harder. Hopefully this will tide you over while I catch up on the other two stories. Hehe. Hopefully you like, and I'm not disappointing you yet. 

Dyna: What's that phrase? An enigma, wrapped in a riddle, hidden in a puzzle? Or however it goes...I never meant for the story to go this way, but it just keeps revealing more and more layers. Actually, the original story – compared to what I've got now – seems a ridiculously simple plot in comparison. So maybe it's a better thing...Heh. Maybe I'll tell the original idea in an author's note, when I'm done and the dust has settled. In the meantime, very glad you're enjoying. 

LadyJessy: Hello, meet Major Plot Twist! ;-) Pay no mind to the author behind the curtain. Chat amongst yourselves, I'll be back once I've caught up on my other stories. Bwahahaha...my evil plans are going swimmingly. Or something. 

Gerald Tarrant and Quicksilver: like I said in email, you made my whole freekin' month. Now I just have to live up to the expectations! I bet this means I should probably not have Heero wake up in the shower and realize it was all a dream... 

SilverCaladan: Well, your guess on the pictures is a fair one, but Heero's not confirmed anything yet. Duo didn't really give him a lot of chances to ask questions, but there's still a day or two before the next mission starts. Let's see what kind of damage, err, explanations we can manage in the meantime. If I have my way, not too many, but hey...sometimes the author doesn't win. ;-) 

Lainwyn: I know the exposition was heavy-duty. It was a lot to absorb, but at least now the readers can relate even better to Heero's feeling of being utterly overwhelmed. Danger, Will Robinson, sensory overload! Oh, wait, maybe before everyone's time. Ahem. Where was I...Glad you picked up on the ambivalence of Hilde/Joe relationship – and here's hoping I didn't make that too much worse in this chapter. Of course, now you have to wait to find out why Duo's reacting like he is, or what's up with Hilde, but the reasons are all there. It's just a matter of paying attention, even if I hear that's tough for you advanced edjukayshun types. Hehe. 

Reb: I considered doing the exposition in dialogue between Duo and Heero, but there were two things against that. One, it's a lot, and doing it in dialogue would've dragged it out to a whole chapter just for that section. Second, I wanted to give the impression that Duo was speaking and Heero was only listening. Dialogue, when it's one-sided, gets boring. It becomes a whole lot of "blah blah," he said, followed by 'Heero was silent,' or 'Heero didn't say anything.' Why bother, when you could just slam the story out in half the space and time, with only a few side-steps to indicate that Heero has said nothing while Duo has talked nonstop? But don't worry, Heero will get back around to puzzling it out and you'll get a refresher in a chapter or two. As for the origin of the title, I picked it because it works on several levels, not the least of which was Midnight Oil's refrain. 

CinC: Trowa could have, yes, but it seemed like Duo was taking on the task since a) he's trying to go along with Heero's request to be friends, even if it's only like they 'used to be,' and b) Duo was the one dragging his feet in the first place. Besides, note that Duo doesn't mention Trowa at all in his story – and Trowa didn't join Duo and Hilde until six months prior to the story's beginning, which means Trowa probably never met Joe. So if Heero were to get the story first-hand, it'd have to be from Hilde or Duo. If Duo seems unlikely teller, Hilde's less so, thanks to the emotional whallop. Make sense? 

Claire: Glad you like – it's actually turning out to be easier to understand Heero than I thought, but I also think I did a bit of a cop-out in some ways. I did skip ahead five years, thus hopping over any post-war issues like PTSD and whatnot. Saying "this is post-therapy" gives me some leeway. Then again, I think Duo and Hilde have ended up with enough issues that adding Heero's would make the story too top-heavy...What do you think? 

And many MANY thanks to Kiya Sama and CleverYoungThief, who both beta'd this chapter and had lovely little ego-strokes along with valid commentary. What would I do without y'll to keep me on the writing path? 


	24. as your sorrows are joys

**01 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

It'll happen to you as sure as your sorrows are joys  
And the thing that disturbs you is only the sound of  
The low spark of high-heeled boys  
― Steve Winwood 

There were points in Heero's life when he could reasonably describe a situation as exploding, even without the benefit of grenades. When Duo shouted at Hilde, the Wing Zero pilot absently noted that the argument had suddenly become one of those moments. 

A number of things happened, apparently at the same moment. 

At Duo's shout, Hilde launched herself forward, her left hand flying up in a fist. Trowa came to his feet. Duo blocked the girl's punch. Heero kicked the low table out of his way and closed the distance between him and Hilde. The Deathscythe pilot retaliated with a right hook. Trowa jerked Duo backwards. Heero grabbed Hilde under the arms and swung her around, yanking her out of Duo's reach. Hilde screamed, an infuriated, frustrated sound. She kicked once and swung them around again, but Heero didn't let go. He only twisted to turn with her, until his left shoulder was pointing at Duo as he faced the girl. 

"Let go of me," Duo snarled at Trowa, his eyes flashing amethyst from the adrenaline rush. 

"Stand down," Trowa responded calmly, but his green eyes were fixed on Heero's protective posture around Hilde. Duo growled and pushed at the taller man's hold a second time. Trowa's grip tightened on Duo's wrists. 

The dark-haired man was grasping Hilde carefully, one hand on her arm; his other hand at the back of her neck, ready to disable her if need be. She didn't move, and Heero exhaled at Trowa's words. At the same instant Hilde's right hand reached back, under her sweater, and brought out a dull gray semi-automatic. Heero barely had time to react when he heard the hammer pull back with a clunk. A round was in the chamber, and Hilde's forefinger was squarely on the trigger. 

"Shit," Duo whispered. His face was pale beneath the auburn bangs hanging in his eyes, and he stared at the gun intently. "This is familiar," the man finally said. His voice was steady, if scarcely audible. 

"We have a job to do," Hilde said, her eyes cool and dangerous. Heero didn't move. His lips were close enough to kiss her ear, if he chose. Hilde's pupils were large, the green absorbed by black, but her hand was steady, and she spoke with the control of a well-trained mobile suit pilot. "There's no quitting now." 

"This didn't work the last time, either," Duo said, a playful smile appearing on his lips. His chin was down, his eyes slits, a conspiratorial look. 

"Hilde," Heero said, barely louder than a breath, hoping he was right that the volume was below the threshold of the ship's listening devices. The name, at least, got Hilde's attention. Heero made no move towards the gun, but shifted his hold so his thumb could stroke the girl's cheek. Her eyes were fixed squarely on Duo, but he could tell she was listening. "First," he instructed her quietly, "you need to ease the hammer down." 

There was a long silence. Just when Heero was realizing he couldn't go longer without drawing a breath, there was a quiet click. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Trowa almost visibly slump in relief, but the Heavyarms pilot didn't release Duo's wrists. 

"The syndicate is hitting your buttons," Heero murmured. "Don't let them." 

"What..." the girl started to say, then cut herself off. Her jaw clenched, and Heero went back to stroking her cheek as he whispered in her ear. 

"Little boss," he said, hoping to put her at ease with the friendly teasing. Heero's body language conveyed relaxed intimacy, and he raised his voice enough to barely be heard by the other two men. "I have an idea of how we can do this, but you and your brother are going to have to clear the air first." 

Hilde's entire body immediately tensed. Her thumb moved to the hammer. Heero pulled her a little closer, molding her body to his as though partners in a tango. Out of the corner of his eye, Heero could see Duo, and that little voice prodded Heero to say his piece quickly. Duo stood staring at Heero with a peculiar sequence of emotions playing on his face: suspicion, chased by relief, darkening into a slow burn of envy. 

"I am the muscle here," Heero said, his tone becoming a command while still pitched below a whisper. "I agreed to protect the team. If you try to kill your best friend, then I'll have to kill you for hurting a member of the team. Got that?" 

The words finally sunk in, and a choked giggle burst from Hilde before she managed to stifle the sound. Her thumb moved away from the hammer, and Heero let go of her cheek long enough to grab the gun. One fluid move and he disarmed her, tucking the gun into the back of his jeans. Dropping his hands, he kept his body away from her even as he leaned over to whisper in her ear. 

"Repeat after me," Heero ordered. "I have an idea. We should cover all bases." 

"I have an idea," Hilde said, woodenly. "We should cover all bases." 

"They'll be checking the prostitutes," he continued. "But they'll need someone to serve the drinks, and the wait staff is noticed even less than the hookers." Heero waited while the girl dutifully repeated his comments, and steeled his mission mask as his idea sunk into the girl's awareness. She paused, pursing her lips, then gave Heero a shy smile, indicating her acceptance. 

"Day, you get a job as a cook," Hilde announced, her voice growing stronger. Heero stepped back to lean against the wall. Hilde turned back to her teammates. "I'll go in as a hooker," she added, shaking her head as Duo started to open his mouth, his expression dark. The girl spoke quickly, before he could say anything. "Someone has to, so we're covered on all fronts. Trey, can you dance?" 

Trowa nodded, reluctantly. 

"You'll go in as a dancer, and Hito will be wait staff. If Enny and Jeet are available, we'll have them do general surveillance." Hilde fell silent, and the room was uncomfortably quiet for a minute, until Hilde's stomach growled loudly. "Oh, hell," she said with a rueful look. "Don't know about the rest of you, but I'm hungry." 

Trowa stepped away from Duo. The Heavyarms pilot's face gave away nothing. Duo accepted Hilde's offer with an unenthusiastic nod as he carefully twitched his sleeves back down. Hilde glanced at Heero. The dark-haired man shrugged with one shoulder, preoccupied with Duo's strange gesture and the glimpse of white scars circling Duo's wrists. 

"Let's go by the corner, get Enny and Jeet if they're there. Dinner at Marty's." Hilde turned to Heero with her hand out. Heero raised one eyebrow and shook his head, letting his gaze travel to Duo in a pointed movement. Hilde scowled, pulling her hand back a little before thrusting it out again. Heero simply stared, and her scowl grew deeper. 

She stepped to the side, and Heero put out his arm, blocking the exit. Again he shook his head, and glanced towards Duo, who was watching with narrowed eyes. To Heero's surprise, Duo spoke first, a raspy whisper. 

"I would never quit this, Hel," he said as he stepped towards the petite brunette. "But I don't want to compete. Don't make me." 

Hilde's eyes went wide, and she suddenly started to shake, realizing Duo's meaning. Seeing her distress, the longhaired thief stepped forward, placing his hands gently on her shoulders as he leaned forward, putting his forehead against hers. 

"He chose you," Duo whispered, just barely loud enough for Heero to hear. "Stop hassling me 'bout how I deal with it, cause he...chose...you." 

"I thought you..." Hilde's voice was ragged. 

"You thought wrong," Duo said, and kissed her on the nose. "Hito's right. You're letting them call the shots. Don't. I know the real score. Don't worry about me." 

"But I do," she breathed. "I'm sorry..." 

Heero kept his gaze towards the floor. This had better work, the small voice reminded him, or you're out of a job and just lost two friendships. Maybe three. Heero shrugged mentally. If the syndicate's suggestions could push Hilde and Duo into such an explosive showdown, then it meant there was an issue that needed to be dealt with. The last thing any of them needed was a job going bad due to miscommunication. 

"Don't be, on both counts," Duo was saying. That half-smile was back on his face, evident in his tone. "I'm the one who screwed up." He kissed her again, on the forehead, and held her close, letting his head drop until he was cradling her cheek-to-cheek. "I can cook, Hito can wait tables, Trey can dance, and you can look cute in heels and a short skirt." 

There was a choking sound from Hilde, and Duo's grin flashed across his face. Heero watched carefully, vaguely aware the two friends were resolving their differences only insofar as they were agreeing to remain unresolved. He sighed inwardly and guessed it would have to do for the time being. 

Duo released Hilde, who stepped away, her face to the floor. Heero let his arm fall from where he'd blocked the doorway. The Wing Zero pilot pulled the gun out from the back of his jeans, and racked the slide. He ignored the ejected round, flipped the gun in his hand, and held it out to Hilde, butt-first. She took it with a sheepish grin. 

"We'll meet you there," Heero said. "Day and I will take a cab, and stop by Enny's corner." 

"See you at Marty's," Hilde said. She shoved the gun back into the holster under her sweater and left without a backwards glance. 

Trowa took the keys from Heero's jacket before leaving without a word. Heero looked over, catching the smile fading from Duo's lips. It had never truly reached the pilot's eyes, and it made Duo look far older than the wartime boy Heero remembered. 

The dark-haired man leaned his head against the wall, and closed his eyes, wishing momentarily he'd stayed on L1. "Well," he finally said, pushing away from the wall with a sigh. "Let's go." 

* * *

The cab ride was silent. Duo had leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes, obviously uninterested in conversation. Heero stared out at the passing slums, and ran the day's information through his head. He doubted he'd find any answers in the fifteen-minute ride from the station bay to Sector 3, but he had to start somewhere. 

He began with the upcoming job: infiltrate the L4 syndicate's annual party. A number of representatives from the other crime organizations would probably be there; one reason for the event was likely to discuss alliances and syndicate politics. 

Heero recalled Duo's comment that no L4 organization had yet allied with the Yakuza, Mafia, or Space Syndicates. It was logical that the real goal behind the team's mission would assisting with an effort to force the L4 organization to join the rest of the syndicates. L4's syndicates would be allies; failing that, they would be servants. Hilde's team would be collecting information that would make either possible. 

But the real value to completing the job, Heero theorized, wasn't the risk level of the mission. Although there was considerable risk in dealing with the heads of other organizations and the security such would entail, the real value was the chance for direct contact with the L2 syndicate bosses. Joe's mission may originally have centered on gun smuggling, but the Wing Zero pilot doubted that was still the objective. 

The incident a half-hour ago, Heero mused, was proof enough that the syndicate could procure such items, at least for its employees. Hilde's semi-automatic had been a .45 P-11. If the gun was older than the Earth Sphere handgun restriction laws, it must have been a museum piece until recently. The action was too tight to be anything but relatively new. 

The only reasonable conclusion was that Joe had stumbled on something that made it worthwhile to mess with the syndicate heads. Either that, or he'd found a way to connect them to their numerous crimes, despite their precautions like using romchip technology. If Joe had connected the vultures to the road kill, what was keeping Hilde and Duo from following in his footsteps? What had Joe discovered? What had made his death necessary? 

The cab pulled up to the corner, and Duo stepped out long enough to call Enny and Jeet over. The three chatted outside the cab before coming to some kind of agreement. Heero could see Jeet walking off as Enny climbed in. She slid over until her hip bumped against Heero, and Duo got in after her. 

"Hey, Hito," she said cheerfully. "Haven't seen you in awhile." 

Heero threw her a scowl for forgetting the afternoon so quickly, and then realized she knew exactly what she'd said. He dropped the scowl and gave her a crooked smile instead, before returning his attention to the scenery outside. 

"That's why I like you," she said, settling down into the seat between the two Gundam pilots. "Such the extroverted charmer." 

Heero ignored her. For every answer, ten more questions, that small voice taunted: Joe's death, the President's shutdown request, Une's refusal, and the clear sabotage. Pops' said Joe had been suspected of selling out to competition, but Heero had inferred that Pops meant other syndicate competition, not the Preventers. 

Why would someone so obviously murder Joe and his team, yet not broadcast that the victim was an undercover agent? Was the syndicate lying in wait to do the same to Hilde and her team? Had the L2 crime organizations already pegged Hilde as a continuation of Joe's infiltration? 

Normally, Heero knew, a death like Joe's would be used as a warning. If it wasn't, this could only mean the syndicate saw reason to let its other employees think Joe was a traitor. Alternately, perhaps the L2 syndicate wasn't aware of Joe's real identity. But the timing was such that Joe's death couldn't be anything but a hit, and that required someone with knowledge of the agent's real purpose. Who would stand to gain from Joe's death but not gain from knowledge about Joe's mission? 

Heero pushed his mind back into line before it could go wandering off down the side-alleys created by Duo's story. Dragging his attention back to the mission, he steeled his mind to comprehend the orders that had Hilde so dejected, and Duo so angry. There were alternative ways to collect the information, but the syndicate's orders this time had been specific that the team should infiltrate as prostitutes. The orders left Heero completely bewildered. If he couldn't figure out what the syndicate stood to gain by keeping Joe's true identity a secret, he wasn't sure he would fare much better in figuring out the syndicate's purposes for insisting the team use prostitution as their cover. 

This had to be why Duo had gone seeking Quatre, Heero thought, a small touch of irritation coloring his thoughts. The Arab was their strategist, the brain behind their teamwork time and time again. Heero chuckled dryly in his head. The Zero system had decimated Quatre the first time, but when Heero installed it in Sandrock, the blond pilot had mastered it in one battle and never required Zero's clairvoyant skills again. He had proven to be capable of operating as efficiently without it as Heero did with it. Quatre didn't need the system to observe, master, and select all the options in a battle. 

The thought of Quatre's talents drew Heero along a path to consider his other teammates. Heero knew that where he could give and take orders with ease, Duo was the opposite. The thief had refused a position with Preventers out of reluctance to take orders; then again, Duo had equal trouble giving orders. He had grown used to being part of a collaborative effort, but this probably came from so many battles as Quatre's wingman. That might explain Duo's request for Quatre, because otherwise it was unusual that Duo would be willing to be drawn into a Preventers mission. The Wing Zero pilot wasn't sure whether Duo was acting out of support for Hilde, or Duo's own sense of loss for Joe, or because of his innate sense of justice on behalf of those who couldn't fight. He did know, however, that the only two people Duo ever took commands from were Quatre and himself. 

And even I, he reminded himself, had to put up with an argument from Duo, every single time. In the end, Heero mused, perhaps it didn't matter. Whatever the reason, the goal had to be a significant one to compel Duo to go against his natural grain and take orders again. 

Heero's thoughts shifted to the circus acrobat and lifelong soldier. Trowa had been accepting orders as a mercenary for nearly his entire life. It made sense that he'd seek that outlet again, after five years of deprivation. 

He watched the street signs change as the cab entered Sector 3, flickering neon giving way to brighter digital displays. Two blocks from the restaurant, Heero registered their location and sat up, rapping sharply in the ceiling to get the cabbie's attention. Setting aside his musings on his teammates, he rapped louder when the cabbie didn't respond. 

"Stop here," he ordered. "Pull over. Two of us are getting out." 

"What?" Enny asked, surprised, and immediately suspicious. 

"Not you," Heero said as the cabbie pulled over. Digging in his pockets, he pulled out twenty credits and shoved them at the girl. "Pay him with that when you get to Marty's, and I expect change. Day, you're coming with me." 

Duo opened his mouth, then shut it when Heero glared. Frowning, Duo shook his head and climbed out of the cab. He had pulled his braid around and was cradling it quietly as the cab pulled away, leaving six feet of empty tarmac between them. The colony's winter seeped in through the soles of Heero's boots, and tugged at the rip in the knee of his jeans. Heero shrugged his jacket closer and tried to find his voice. 

"Was there a purpose," Duo asked him, "or did you just think we needed the exercise?" 

Heero started at the caginess in the young man's baritone. "I wanted to talk to you," he finally said. 

Duo didn't say anything, but watched, wary, as Heero joined him on the sidewalk. The taller man jerked his chin in the direction of the restaurant. Duo scowled, then fell in line next to Heero. After a second, the thief let go of the braid, flipping it behind his shoulder automatically. 

"Why did you cut your hair?" Heero hadn't intended to start there, but seeing the auburn rope draped over Duo's shoulder reminded him. 

"To hide," Duo said, and flashed a quick grin at Heero. "Best way to do it, in plain sight." 

Heero studied the expression carefully, and concluded Duo was guarded, but not unhappy. The large smile at his lips was matched with a cautious friendliness around the eyes. 

"From whom? And when?" 

"Journalists, five years ago now, I guess." Duo shrugged, pulling the braid back around and studying it for several seconds as they walked. "All that post-war crap, heroes of the universe...our pictures everywhere. So I cut it off...but you can see how long that lasted." 

Heero glanced at the braid. "About two feet, I'd say." 

Duo's eyebrows shot up, and then he smiled shyly, but it was a true smile. "Yeah, I guess about that much. Hair grows an inch a month. I cut it every few months now." 

They waited at the corner, a block from the restaurant. The light turned green, and Duo stepped into the crosswalk without looking to see if Heero was following. The dark-haired man hid a smile, recalling their shared wartime schooling. To his surprise he often found himself following Duo around whenever they ended up at the same school. The idiot was talkative, unconventional, and a security blanket of the strangest kind. His openness created a wall of noise behind which Heero could hide. 

The photographer sighed, glancing down at Duo's hands that were clutching the braid again. Heero had seen something, earlier, and it was still playing in his mind. His soldier's senses were telling him to ask; his friendship instincts were telling him to lay low. Distrusting his ability to be a friend, Heero decided to follow the soldier side of things. 

"What happened to your wrists?" 

"Ah, my..." Duo's blue eyes widened, and his expression went from distantly polite to stunned. Even a little terrified, Heero thought, catching the way Duo's knuckles had suddenly gone white as his hands held onto the braid. "After the war," Duo started to say, then stopped. He took a deep breath, relaxed his hands, flipped the braid over his shoulder, and shoved his hands in his coat pockets. 

"You don't have to say," Heero replied. "I was just..." 

"It's okay," Duo said, shock still obvious on his features. "That whole thing about a face being recognizable? I guess the braid was more so...stupid group shanghaied me, held me for ransom. Quatre wouldn't pay, but he and Wufei stormed the castle, guns blazing." He chuckled, a dark sound. "Maybe the only time I didn't get out on my own," Duo added. "Of course, OZ didn't usually knock us out. Why waste the drugs?" 

"And the scars?" Heero did his best to speak casually, and kept his gaze level on the cars they passed. He didn't look at Duo. 

"They did their research. Kept the handcuffs tight enough to..." 

Out of the corner of his eye, Heero could see Duo shake himself rather than finish the sentence, a grim smile pasted across his face. No other words were needed. There was just one more thing to say, the small voice piped up to remind him. The other realization from those moments after the room had exploded. 

Heero looked up to see they were at the restaurant. He reached out, catching Duo's coat sleeve between his fingers to make the other man stop. Now was the time, especially now, Heero told himself: Duo had spoken openly. Perhaps he would allow the same in return. 

"You were my first real friend," Heero said, carefully, slowly. He licked his lips, glancing into Duo's wide blue-purple eyes once before his gaze slid away again. "I know I wasn't a good friend to you before, but I want to be...if you'll let me." Stepping forward, Heero leaned over a little, letting his cheek brush against Duo's until his lips were at the other man's ear. "And..." Heero took a deep breath, exhaled through his nose, and tried again. "...I want you to know, I will _always_ choose you." 

Heero didn't move. Duo's breath was on his cheek, hot, steady, and quick. The wool texture of Duo's coat was crisp beneath his fingers, where he grasped the sleeve. Finally Duo nodded, his long bangs brushing Heero's cheek like butterfly wings. Heero stepped back, giving Duo a tentative smile, a bare movement, a quirk of the lips before his face returned to stillness. Duo was staring at Heero's lips. 

"Were you waiting for me?" The voice came from behind Heero, a jeering, cheerful question. Heero jumped, startled. At the same moment Duo also reared back, skittish, pulling his coat sleeve out of Heero's grasp. 

The speaker resolved itself into a flurry of blue hair and Jeet appeared in the corner of Heero's vision. Irritated, the photographer opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Duo was giving Jeet a goofy grin. 

"Not even close," Duo retorted. His wide smile was back in place, and he shoved Jeet towards the door. "Finish up your last trick for the day?" 

"Not if you're my dessert," Jeet teased, and threw his arm over Duo's shoulder. 

"You wish," Duo said, and led the way towards the restaurant's doors. Heero blinked, realized he was about to be left behind, and shook himself. Ignoring the thumping ache in his chest, he followed the two into the restaurant. 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, own a whole bunch of Cantonese leftovers. I suppose I'd share if you really wanted, but how many people out there understand the value of good pork intestines with sour cabbage? Or hot and sour fish fillet? Or spinach and pork with spicy noodles? Hey, what can I say? I'm addicted, and proud of it. 

I have now posted art for this story. You can find it at www gwaddiction com under Sol 1056. At the top of the table o' stories, click on Sol's Gallery. Enjoy! 

Aryl: I'm not sure what to think of Joe, either. He definitely counts as one of those characters who just kind of pushes at the writer for a bigger part. Back when I was first fleshing out the general direction of this story, Joe wasn't even in the cast...so you can see how he's taking over. Argh! 

SilverCaladan: Oh, boy, now I have to keep surprising you? Isn't there a point where I get to chill out or something? Oh, and gold stars for your catches on the warming-up part. Nearly every solid and lasting relationship I've ever had, at least, developed gradually. The best ones are never a "so, what's your name and where are my clothes?" kind of deal. Your bet's also been added to the tally, with note made in the next commentary. ;-) 

LadyJessy: Leaving fifteen phone messages in two hours is obsessing over someone. Buying someone's pictures probably falls more in the category of "I still care, but not enough to actually track you down and make you part of my life." I'm not sure where Duo falls on the range, but hopefully things are moving in that direction now that Heero's found himself a backbone and a purpose. 

CinC: Nope, I think Heero's been Cautious Boy up until now. Hadn't realized until you mentioned, though, just how quickly Heero acted on the information this time around. Guess that means this issue was one closer to his heart, and deserving of more action, sooner, than the rest of what he's faced. And boy, I should slap a spoiler warning on you! ;-) 

GoldenRat: I'm flattered you think so. No, it's not solely a Duo-and-Heero story, but then, a five year break in a friendship? Someone else is bound to enter the picture, even if only temporarily. A lot can happen in five years! As for the whole 1+2 or 2+1...I really don't know. Remains to be seen. 

Lainwyn: I agree about Duo getting the short end of the stick. I keep thinking of his intentional capture on the Lunar Base, rather than let the scientists' secrets get out, and he's greeted with the statement (not a question!): "You botched the mission." In fact, Duo had a more successful mission than the other pilots because of his discovery - or, at least, he had a good reason for not succeeding when he really had more of a chance than the other three. I guess writing this story is one way to have Heero aware of this, and correcting it. Because, after all, we write because we want to be our own little gods! Fear me, for I am Fanfic Madness Personified! Bwahahahah! Oh, ahem. Was I raving again? 

As always, there are kind folks who email me offline with words of encouragement and general taunting to get me to spill more about the story than I do in the notes online: Kiya Sama, Anne Olson, Lainwyn, and especially CleverYoungThief for her preliminary feedback of the first part of this chapter. 

In the just-because category ― favorite email feedback line: 

"The only thing I *don't* like about your Heero is how oblivious he is. I just want to smack the hell out of him. *laughs* ^_~ Even the   
prostitutes know you have a thing for Duo, you idiot! *facepalm*" 

Hehe. 


	25. a solution for every fool

**01 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

some long ago when we were taught  
that for whatever kind of puzzle you got  
you just stick the right formula in  
a solution for every fool  
― Emily Saliers 

Everyone was waiting in a booth, with Trowa squeezed against the wall with Jeet in the middle and Duo on the outside. The two girls were laughing about something as Heero came alongside, but got up as the photographer approached. 

"We're going to powder our noses," Enny announced joyfully, dragging Hilde along with her. "Keep our seats warm, Hito." 

Heero slid into the booth, his stomach quivering strangely as he sat at the edge of the long seat, across from Duo. The photographer schooled his face into indifference, and pretended to listen to Jeet, who was telling Trowa and Duo a story about one of the other hookers. 

"Move in," came Hilde's voice from over Heero's head, even as Enny poked him twice in the arm. He stifled the urge to break her fingers and started to get up from the booth. The petite brunette shook her head and shoved at his arm. "No, just slide in! Besides, we might have to get up again." 

Reluctantly Heero slid the rest of the way into the booth, and his chest ached in that strange rippling way that was becoming too familiar. Glancing up, he noticed Trowa staring at him. The pilot's face was blank, but Heero was almost convinced there was a flicker of amusement in Trowa's green eyes. 

Heero scowled and lowered his head to study the menu again. 

* * *

The pizzas were finally served, and the table was quiet as everyone filled their plates. Enny, Hilde, Duo and Jeet had done all the talking, and even that had consisted mostly of light chatter and gossip about local bartenders, the other hookers, and the latest bumbling johns. The real conversation didn't really start until Duo claimed the last slice of pizza just as Trowa was reaching for it. Stalling off the inevitable endless argument between the two teammates, Hilde cleared her throat and rapped on the tabletop. 

Heero dug the folded papers from his jacket pocket and handed them to Hilde, who laid them out on the table. She explained the plan in efficient, clipped terms. After several minutes of discussion, Enny agreed to ask Pops for the week off, two months ahead of time. Jeet would be joining them, traveling with Hilde and Enny in the shuttle. Heero and Duo would be leaving on a separate shuttle for L4, to get jobs in the convention center's main kitchens. Trey would leave the same day, for L3, and would make the dance troupe's winter auditions with two days to spare. Hilde would remain on L2, working various one-person jobs for Pops during the eight weeks' lead-time. 

When the party broke up, Trowa headed back to the shuttle station with Jeet. Hilde and Enny left for Pops to get the old man's permission for the additional personnel. Duo was left counting the credits against the group's bill, and grinned as he pocketed a handful of extra credits. 

"Love it when they overpay," he quipped. Heero smirked, falling in line behind the longhaired man as he led the way from the restaurant. Outside, the colony's nighttime chill had descended. Duo pulled his long wool coat closer, buttoning up the front and shoving his hands deep in his pockets. "We could call another cab," he offered. "Courtesy everyone else." 

Heero grunted disinterest, and started walking. The night was crisp, without the usual daytime humidity thanks to L2's incompetent air transfer systems. The coolness of deep space seemed to invigorate him, more than the empty warmth of the colony's false daytime. 

"Don't start that again," Duo replied, but his tone was jovial. "I heard a rumor you actually talk now. In real sentences." 

"Hn," the dark-haired man said, but the quirk of his lips gave him away. Duo laughed and draped his arm over Heero's shoulder. 

"It may take a day or two before I'm up to speed," the thief quipped. "I'm a little rusty on my grunts-to-English, English-to-grunts translating skills." 

"Idiot," Heero replied, but couldn't keep the affection from his tone. 

"Yeah," Duo said, and grinned, letting his arm drop casually as they navigated around another pedestrian. "Say it like you mean it when you insult me." 

Rather than say anything, Heero waited until they were side-by-side again, and simply slipped a hand out of his jacket pocket and put it over Duo's shoulders. Pulling the other man a little closer, he smiled as Duo's arm slowly advanced, finally settling around Heero's waist. 

"I missed you," Heero said, softly. 

Duo didn't reply, but at the next corner he let his arm drop. By the time they'd crossed the street, Heero pulled away from Duo, letting his own arm fall to his side as nonchalantly as possible. The two walked the rest of the way in silence. 

* * *

The next afternoon Hilde bundled them onto a commercial shuttle bound for L4 with a variety of admonitions to write regularly, not party too much, and to remember to brush their teeth. Duo laughed it all off, and Heero reluctantly allowed the petite girl to give him a quick hug. The shuttle flight was an uneventful six-hour trip thanks to planetary evolutions, and Duo spent most of the time using the shuttle's online databases to search for apartments. Heero spent most of the time trying to ignore Duo's running commentary about the prices on L4. 

The two men checked into a medium-rate motel on L4, after Heero had barely managed to steer Duo away from a higher priced one that also happened to be where Heero had stayed on his previous six or seven trips to L4. Bernie's preferred printer was on L4, and Heero had taken advantage of the need to deliver the galleys as an excuse for photography. Duo raised his eyebrows at Heero's sudden insistence for a different motel, but didn't comment otherwise. 

By noon of the next day they'd both applied and interviewed at the Crescent Convention Center. At Duo's suggestion they separated, each with a list of possible apartments. By nightfall they were back at the motel and comparing their finds. After a lengthy silent deliberation, they had settled on a studio apartment in the cheaper district when the phone rang. It was the hotel kitchen manager, calling to let Duo know he had not gotten the job, but that the front manager had an opening in the wait staff and would be calling shortly. When the phone rang five minutes later, it was the front manager, calling for Heero. He had the job, working morning shift, and would start the next morning. 

Duo was staring at the studio apartment listing when the phone rang a third time. The front manager was now calling for Duo, unaware the two applicants were sharing a motel room. Duo spoke politely with the deep-voiced manager, smiling at the appropriate points during the informal interview, and finally hanging up with a grin. Without explaining, he pulled the studio apartment listing out of Heero's hands and replaced it with a slightly better option. 

"Just because we're on a job doesn't mean I want to live like we're still on L2," Duo told the surprised Wing Zero pilot. 

* * *

Heero was lying in the dark, staring at the lowlight digital display. Eleven o'clock, standard time. He needed to sleep, but his back ached, his feet were screaming, his shoulders were sore, and his tension headache was still securely in place despite eight hundred milligrams. It was three days into his new job, and his body still hadn't adjusted. He scowled at the ceiling and rolled over on the futon, trying to find a comfortable position. And here he'd thought piloting a Gundam was hard on the body. Clearly he'd been ignorant, the small voice taunted. 

The futon wasn't helping, but it wasn't like he could go curl up on a sofa, since they didn't have one. The apartment wasn't furnished, and they'd agreed that excessive furniture purchases were unnecessary when they'd only be around for two months. The Asian market around the corner only had queen-sized futons, and neither was willing to deal with the hassle of transporting a futon from the shopping district to their apartment with only cabs as transportation. The rest of the apartment was relatively bare, with only pillows to make the floor seating less noticeable. The problem was that floor sitting, while tolerable most of the time, was positively unbearable with an aching body. 

Heero sighed and rolled over again, cradling his head on his forearms as he lay on his stomach. They were settling into a rhythm. Heero wasn't certain it was the one he would have picked, had he been in charge, but it was comfortable. In some ways it reminded him of the early days of the war, when he'd first roomed with Duo at the Saint Gabriel Institute. They'd had some classes together, some apart, but managed to find time to play basketball, during which Heero could set aside the wartime distance and compete as friends might. The only thing lacking, this time, was the conversations they'd had while doing homework each night. It was then, between the soft rustle of pages turning, and pencils scratching on blue-lined notebook paper, that Heero had slowly opened up about Relena, and his descent to earth, and his reasons for pulling a gun on her at the naval base. Duo, in turn, had told him about the Sweepers, and the way he'd ended up with a Gundam. That was about all the thief had said, Heero remembered, only now finding that curious. 

Heero pondered that as he punched his pillow and tried to arrange himself so some part of his body wasn't complaining. He'd never really prodded Duo for more information, assuming that Duo would speak like he did: when and if he chose to. It had never occurred to him that Duo wanted to be asked. The photographer rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling again. Car lights outside the apartment building traced arcs across the walls as they passed. Slowly Heero's eyes closed as he let himself drift into a dreamless state between sleeping and waking. 

It was three in the morning when the studio door unlocked with a soft click, and Heero was instantly alert, if not entirely awake. The dark-haired man heard the two muffled thumps from Duo toeing his work shoes off at the door. Heero watched from under his eyelashes as Duo passed the bedroom door, heading for the bathroom. The sounds of water splashing against a body echoed in the one bedroom apartment. Thirty minutes later Duo was out, wrapped in a towel and wringing his hair with a second towel. Heero could see the reflection on the ceiling as the refrigerator door opened and closed, followed by a thump of Duo settling down in front of the laptop. The liquid crystal display was turned on, lighting the living room with an eerie blue light. Heero rolled over on his side, barely able to see Duo through the open bedroom door. The young man was yawning as he searched the 'net for something to help wind down from the stress of dealing with a night of demanding tables and imperious managers. Heero knew this pattern; his version, though, was to take pictures in the mid-afternoon once he'd gotten off the morning shift. 

An hour later Duo was crawling under the covers next to Heero. Duo's footsteps were heavy if silent, and Heero knew it was a telling action on the thief's part. They both knew, without speaking, that each was leery of sleeping in close contact with another person. Heero suspected it would be years before his body would lose its instinctive reflexes. Until then, he required the warning of Duo's footsteps nearing the bed, the faint scent of Duo's conditioner, just as Duo required the scent and sounds of Heero in the morning to identify the movement as friend and not foe. 

Heero let himself drift into sleep again; somehow comforted by the purring that had always passed for snoring in Duo's reality. He was aggravated, though, to open his eyes only to find it was already five in the morning, standard time. It was as though two hours had passed in two seconds. Exhausted enough, his mind said, that I'm going straight into Delta waves and missing REM sleep. I should have adjusted by now, he chided himself. Groaning, he stretched momentarily, having discovered the little movements of tension and relaxation were the best way to let Duo's subconscious know it was safe. 

After a pause, Heero slipped from the bed, grabbing his work uniform as he padded to the bathroom to change. A quick breakfast over the laptop, thirty minutes on various political forums, two cups of coffee, and Heero was heading out the door for his morning shift. Another day had started, and now they had only fifty-three more days to survive before the real job began. 

* * *

Forty-nine days to go, Heero thought. He was standing at the laundry machines in the basement of their building and folding Duo's long-sleeved shirts. A part of him was amazed his body had managed to adjust, but he wasn't sure he'd ever adjust to the draining sensation of dealing with so many people, every single day. What got him the most was the constant impulse to take pictures of each guest. For all that he'd spent four years as a photographer watching people closely, he'd never really found himself in a position to be truly unobtrusive. As a waiter, however, he had to be, and the customers helped by considering him part of the background. 

A successful waiter, he knew from watching the man who'd trained him, required patience, stealth, and quiet awareness, as well as an eye for detail, strong empathy, and an impeccable sense of timing. He had the first four; the last was coming with practice. The empathy, however, was a little harder. It required a sense of what the customers were feeling, and anticipating their needs. 

Blindly reaching into the dryer, Heero pulled out a pair of jeans and began folding them as he contemplated the day before. Frank, the front manager, had asked him to work two hours later on a last-minute call, covering for one of the afternoon waiters. It had been his first chance to observe Duo at work, and he'd reveled in it. The thief was an excellent waiter, despite his grumbling in the kitchen. Duo could slip in, replace silverware, plates, refill wine glasses, and do it without the customers even aware of his presence. But Duo could just as easily turn on the charm and be completely conspicuous. It mystified Heero, and frustrated him that he couldn't mimic Duo's abilities. 

Heero sighed and stacked the clean clothes on top of the dryer, collecting them all into his arms as he began the trudge up the stairs to their second-floor apartment. Unlocking the door, he bumped it closed behind him with his hip. In the bedroom he sorted out their laundry, kneeling back on his heels to survey the neat stacks before hanging them in the closet. Duo's half was unrelenting black; Heero's half were mostly blue jeans and button-up shirts. He gave the closet a crooked smile before heading to the bathroom to hang the clean towels. 

In the kitchen he grabbed a beer from the fridge before returning to the bedroom. Their chores were split less by conversation and more by practical silent acknowledgement. Duo was simply better in the kitchen, although Heero was capable of cooking if the situation arose. Heero had been mildly surprised to find Duo kept the apartment's kitchen as well organized and neat as the ship's kitchen, and shook his head at the realization that he'd assumed the ship's kitchen was clean only due to Hilde's interference. It appeared that Duo had outgrown his teenaged sloth the same way he seemed to have outgrown his need to chatter incessantly. 

Heero lay down on the bed, propping a pillow under his chest as he lay on his stomach. He'd come across a new science fiction series, and had taken to reading while eating an early dinner. Two more days and he'd have his first day off; Duo's first day off would be tomorrow. Heero set the book aside and rolled over on his back to contemplate the idea of an entire day off. 

He rolled back over onto his stomach and tried not to think about waking up at the same time as Duo. He was pretty sure Duo was usually up by about ten, which would give him four or five hours before heading off to the evening shift. Perhaps that would be enough time to get Duo interested in a game of one-on-one. Heero had seen an empty lot with two basketball hoops the day before on his way to work. The Wing Zero pilot furrowed his brow, thinking about it, and nodded to himself. He'd pick up a basketball tomorrow after work, and suggest a game to Duo when he got home. Duo would probably be on the computer again, surfing the net, if his after-work patterns were any indication. 

But the first thing I'll do on my day off, Heero decided, is sleep late. Very late. 

* * *

Duo was napping when Heero got home from work at four o'clock standard time, and didn't wake up while Heero took a shower. Fifteen minutes later, the dark-haired man stumbled into the bedroom, making as much noise as possible as he selected a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. When he returned from the bathroom, changed into the clean clothes, Duo was still in bed but his eyes were open. He sighed dramatically and rolled over on his back as Heero picked up his latest book. 

"I don't know what to do with myself," Duo announced. 

"You usually find something," Heero replied with a smirk. "I bought a basketball. Join me?" 

There was a pause, and he looked over to see Duo with a thoughtful expression. Heero paused in the doorway, uncertain, his shoulders slumping a little as he considered briefly whether he could still return the basketball to the sports store. Before he could turn away, however, he was surprised by Duo's soft response. 

"I think I'd like that," the young man said. 

* * *

The colony lights were powering down when they finished playing. Their first game was a tie, as they both held back, waiting to see what the other could do now that each had gained in height and muscle tone. Heero won the second game. When they looked around, they discovered the game had attracted several locals, including two of the other waiters from the convention center. He was about to suggest best two-out-of-three, not counting the first game, only to find Duo had already made friends with the six observers and invited them to join in. The next thing Heero knew, Duo was introducing him. Samuel was an inch taller than Heero, with gangly limbs and large hands. Ted was one of the sous chefs at the convention center. Ted wasn't tall, but Duo had seen him work, and knew the guy was coordinated and could move lightening speed behind the line. 

"Shuffle offense," Duo was telling them. Heero raised his eyebrows, and Duo laughed. "Screw the coin toss, Hito, we own the ball. We get it first, so there's no reason we have to let it go." 

Ted and Samuel nodded their approval, spreading out as the game began. They slaughtered the opposite team on the first game, but the difference narrowed on the second game as the four locals caught onto Heero's and Duo's offense styles. Heero carried a number of the scores, and couldn't help but grin smugly when he heard Duo boasting to Ted. 

"Japanese boys _can_ jump," he was crowing. 

* * *

"What do you want to do for dinner?" Duo wiped his face on his shirt as Heero unlocked the apartment door. 

"Do we need to get groceries?" Heero toed off his sneakers at the door. "I haven't been shopping." 

"I did, yesterday, but I was thinking we'd go out. It's my day off! We should do something." 

"We can do it after I take a shower," the Wing Zero pilot replied. He saw a flash of motion out of the corner of his eye, and ducked in time. Duo's sweat-soaked shirt hit the wall behind him and slid to the floor in a heap. "Put that with the laundry," Heero told Duo. "I've got to do laundry tomorrow." 

"You did it just two days ago." 

"Clothes get dirty. Then you wash them." Heero snorted. "Idiot." 

"Anal retentive bastard." 

Heero shut the bathroom door and started up the hot water. In the privacy of the bathroom, he grinned happily at his reflection. Maybe Duo didn't like the idea of them being more than friends, but at least, Heero told himself, even just being friends was proving to be worth the effort. 

When he opened the door after his shower, the steam billowed out into the hallway. Duo was standing there, grimacing. "Geez, man, what were you doing in there? That's twice your usual time." Duo pushed past Heero, cranking the water back on. "The sweat's dried on me. Disgusting, being stinky." 

"More than usual?" 

"Hilde was right," Duo replied with a cheeky grin. "There must be a new world order if you've learned how to joke." 

"Hn." Heero didn't need to yell from the bedroom, picking out clean jeans and a t-shirt. Third set of clothes for the day, he thought. 

"Wait, let me guess. That grunt means, thanks, glad you noticed, right?" The bathroom door shut with a click and a second later Duo could be heard laughing, just barely audible over the sound of water splashing. 

Forty-five minutes later, Heero was just finishing his latest novel when Duo reappeared. His clothes hung to his damp body, highlighting the curves and muscles sheathing his compact frame. He'd already combed his hair, and was braiding the length with deft flicks of his wrist as he stood at the kitchen countertop, studying the pantry shelves. Duo's auburn bangs were drying quickly, and he blew them out of his eyes with a quick uprush of air. 

"So? Eat out, or are you going to make me cook on my day off?" Duo leaned one hip against the countertop and studied his roommate as he twisted a hair band around the end of his braid. 

"I don't mind your cooking," Heero retorted. 

"That means you're not going to treat, are you." 

Heero glanced up from where he'd dropped the finished book next to its brothers. A small line appeared between his brows as he considered the answer that had first popped up in his head. The pause stretched on, and Duo cocked his head, waiting expectantly. Finally Heero gave him a quick shrug, and a crooked smile. 

"We'll go dutch then," Duo announced. "Get your shoes. I saw this great Pho restaurant over by work." 

"Dutch?" Heero recalled the term, vaguely, and frowned as he slipped his feet into his boots. He leaned over to tie them quickly around his ankles rather than lace them up fully, and remembered. "Dutch is what you say when you're dating." 

Duo didn't respond. 

* * *

Five minutes later they were on the street. Heero caught sight of the calendar hanging behind the apartment building's front desk and halted in his tracks. 

"What?" Duo glanced at Heero, then around, wondering what had made the dark-haired man stop so suddenly. 

"It's the tenth," Heero blurted out. "I've got to... Damn." He shook his head. "Never mind. Just something I forgot to do." 

"What is it?" Duo held the door open for Heero, who was busy zipping up his leather jacket. 

"Nothing important." 

"Nothing important that made you stop flat-out in the lobby." Duo grinned. "Oh, wait. Is it a surprise for me?" 

"Hn." 

"And that means... let me think. That particular grunt means... Yes, Duo, it's a large and expensive shipment of new computer games that I didn't want you to know about because I was planning on surprising you." 

Heero made a face. "Stop that." Catching Duo's wide-eyed expression, Heero glared. "Stop making fun of me. And don't try to pretend you're innocent. You're always guilty of something." 

"So what did you forget?" 

"Drop it." 

"No." 

I'm really going to kill him, Heero thought, and groaned privately. Now that he'd been so stupid as to say anything in front of Duo, the longhaired boy wasn't going to let up. Heero scratched his neck and thought about it for several seconds before he came to a decision. 

"I have to...check in." 

"Check in? I sent Hilde an email yesterday." 

"Why do you do that?" 

"Do what?" Duo jerked his head at the corner, and they turned right to head down Fifteenth Street. "And don't change the subject." 

"I'm not. It's just that I can't keep track. You called her Hilde, not Hel. When is it safe?" 

"We're not on L2," Duo pointed out. "And when we're on the street, it's okay." 

"How do you know?" 

Duo shot Heero a look, and then softened it with an abashed grin. "I don't. But I have this cool device that buzzes when we're near listening devices. It's usually pretty accurate." 

"Usually." 

"So far. Besides, there's no way the L2 syndicates have listening devices all over L4. And as far as anyone around here knows, we're two old friends who've gone to school together and now work together." 

"Hn." 

"Yeah, hn." Duo did his best imitation of Heero's characteristic grunt, and laughed when the photographer shot him a disgruntled look. "So why do you have to check in? Pops?" 

"No...some kids I know." Heero spoke slowly, measuring his words as they stood at the light. When the traffic cleared, Duo darted out across the street and Heero followed a heartbeat later. On the curb they fell in step again, passing the Asian furniture store where they'd bought the futon. Heero noticed Duo was watching him with that expectant look again, and he shrugged. "If I don't check in, they'll... alert someone." 

"Should've figured you'd come in with backup." Duo stared up at the colony's vaulted space windows, where a sliver of earth could be seen through the glazed arches. "And they're going to alert who? I wonder..." Duo hummed for several seconds, then flashed a sudden wide grin at Heero. "Ah. They'll tell headquarters you've disappeared." 

"Headquarters..." Heero canted his head at Duo. 

"Appropriate, don't you think?" 

Heero scowled, not getting what Duo found so humorous. Headquarters? Despite himself, he gave Duo a half-smile. Quatre, the head of their strategic movements. Duo blinked, then shyly smiled in response. 

"Yeah," Heero said. "It fits. But actually, I told them to contact Chang." 

"I see. So who are they?" 

"Oh..." The photographer considered the question as he followed Duo into the restaurant. "A bunch of kids. Hackers." 

Heero was disconcerted when Duo suddenly burst out laughing. The waiter showing them to a corner table stopped, giving them a curious look, but Duo just waved him away and took the menus, leading Heero to the table. The dark-haired man followed, unzipping his jacket as he glared. Duo's laughter subsided into chuckles by the time they sat. 

"Mike Anders?" Duo laughed again as Heero's glare grew even deeper. Duo shrugged. "Also known as The Hand?" A muscle flickered in Heero's jaw, and Duo started laughing even harder. "So you're the one who set those kids on us. Should've known!" 

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, own a philodendron that's really not happy. Stupid plant! Be green, eat carbon dioxide, and stop complaining! 

I know the chapter's short. But it had to be done... and I'm a little busy being unmotivated right now and trying to deal with the Return Of The Writer's Block for my other story. Sigh. I really do mean to keep up with Hills, but... hopefully the block isn't contagious. 

Dyna: Okay, so it's becoming clearer... I guess that means you're as bored with this chapter as I was. Yes, I'm sure it shows... but I guess I had to maneuver them into this position before we could move the story along. 

LadyJessy: good point about the listening devices. I suppose I was a little too subtle with that ― I was trying to indicate that Heero was saving face for Hilde, by not saying his idea too loudly but letting her speak as though it were her leadership. Also, a few chapters ago Pops let slip that Duo's words couldn't be heard, which let Heero know that whispers below a certain level couldn't be heard. At least, that's the theory... 

CinC: Oh, there's a story behind everything. Not sure we'll get all of it. Sometimes friends just don't explain these things. The hackers will be showing up in the next chapter, never fear! (At least, I'm pretty sure they will.) 

Lainwyn: Yes, Jeet must die. I understand this completely. Now we are back to Heero trying to be happy with the status quo. Except, of course, the fact that I'm not happy with this chapter in the least ― I think it's a major candidate for revision. We'll see. 

Many thanks to those who emailed me offline ― Jadeduo, Hakumei, Netta J, CY "Radical" Thief, and Kiya "Sporked!" Sama. ;-) 


	26. the conception of the earth

**01 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

An affectionate ear on the belly must alter  
The conception of the earth pressing itself against the sky.  
An elbow bent against the chest must anticipate  
Early light angled over the lake.   
― Pattiann Rogers 

Heero stared at the bowl of noodles and tried to marshal his thoughts in order. Duo had calmed down to an occasional quiet chuckle as they studied the menu, and the table was silent while Heero tried to think of a suitable response. It wasn't until their dinners were served that he decided to broach the topic. 

"How did you know who Mike is?" Heero poked at the bean sprouts with his chopsticks. 

"I make it a point to research people after I fry their hardboards," Duo cracked. The longhaired man grinned. "Sri Ra Cha, please?" 

Heero handed him the red bottle with the rooster label. "So that's all you know? It sounded like..." 

"What it sounded like is what it is," Duo replied quickly. "I've had a bot tracking him for the past two months now. Busy kid, isn't he. And he's got friends that are as nosy as he is." 

Heero gave Duo a crooked grin. 

"Never expected you to be behind it," Duo assured him. "Figured you'd do the dirty work yourself... and it wouldn't be the first time we've had a rash of hackers trying to find out anything they could about the infamous five." 

"Really?" 

Duo shrugged. "None of the rest of us changed our names or went underground, after all. Not entirely." 

Heero stared at the broth in his spoon before lifting it to his lips. He wasn't sure what to say, but a glance at Duo told him the other man hadn't thought of the double meaning in his words. 

"This okay?" Duo's eyebrows were raised, and he pointed at Heero's bowl with his chopsticks. 

"What? Ah, it's fine," Heero replied. "So you knew what Mike was doing, but that was it?" 

"Other than accidentally dismantling the track bots set up on the server relay points, the only thing Mike did was look at stuff. He didn't upload any destructive executables. I'm still not sure if he's figured out everything he got." 

"He has," Heero explained. "With some help, though, if you mean the pictures to Quatre. They did figure it out. Eventually." 

"Eventually!" Duo laughed. "Good to know I can still confuse the youngsters." 

"So were the pictures just pictures?" 

"Yes and no. If you run the images through a second set of algorithms, it reduces jpeg to grayscale. Then you can pick out the overlay that contains progress reports." 

Heero whistled, long and low under his breath. Duo touched his own forehead with the end of his chopstick, as though tipping a hat, and grinned. His dark blue eyes were flashing, and Heero couldn't help but smile in return, impressed. 

"So who created my history?" The Wing Zero pilot ran his hand up and down his water glass, pretending to be distracted while he waited for the answer. 

"History?" A puzzled look crossed Duo's face. 

"For Hito Young." 

"Quatre," Duo said. "I guess." 

"You're guessing?" 

Duo blushed, but there was a sly look in his eyes. "Okay, I have a confession." 

"This I want to hear." 

"Don't rub it in." Duo pretended to scowl. "I didn't know about the track bots until I started following Mike." 

"You didn't? So those weren't for you?" 

"Doesn't look like it, does it." Duo shrugged, a barely perceptible movement, and stirred his soup absently. 

"Let me get this straight," Heero hissed, frustration rising in his gullet as the implications dawned on him. "Quatre has been sending messages to someone else, while you were sending letters buried in pictures to him." 

"That about covers it." 

"Who?" 

"I'm not really sure, but I have my suspicions." Duo glanced around the nearly empty restaurant and ducked his head over his bowl again. "Maganacs." 

"Mag..." Heero's voice trailed away, and his blue eyes went wide as he started to chuckle. "You're right." 

"I am?" 

"That first job," Heero said. "I stuck around afterwards, and saw you escorted out of the side door by two men in suits." 

"Oh, I love that trick," Duo interjected. "Wait... You thought I had to be rescued again, didn't you." His expression darkened. 

"Yes," Heero admitted, but added quickly, "I know better now." 

"Good," Duo muttered, then brightened. "I got the information and left it where Hilde could get it, and then let myself be caught. I was on the security systems, but if they searched me, they'd just think I was some college student acting on a dare. No evidence." 

"Hn." Heero nodded. "But when I saw you get into the car, I was about to head after you... and someone hit me on the head." 

Duo's eyes opened wide, and Heero bit back another laugh. "You? Someone hit you?" The Deathscythe pilot looked around the restaurant, completely askance, as if seeking out the perpetrators. "And they're still living?" 

"Yes, they're still alive," Heero retorted. "They caught me off-guard. But I came to, long enough to hear them talking. Thick accents, something about..." He racked his memory, trying to remember some of the comments he'd overheard. "Something about having a major complex..." 

"Who?" 

"I think me. About being stubborn." The dark-haired man scowled and prodded his noodles a few times. "Someone else replied that they were warned. And then they said something about shooting me. I think they stuck a needle in me." 

"So that's why you were so out of it when I found you in the cargo bay. And here I thought you were impervious to most drugs." 

"I have no immunity to two classes of drugs. One class is a type of sedative," Heero explained. "The few surgeries I had as a kid, they needed some way to put me under." 

Duo made a face. "It'd be a suicidal doctor who'd operate on you without major sedatives." 

"Until now, Quatre was the only person aware of that fact." 

Duo froze, noodles halfway to his mouth. "Another point in favor of it being the Maganacs." 

"That, and the comment about being warned about me." 

"It's been six months, seven months? I've never seen them lurking about. I certainly haven't seen any faces I recognize." 

Heero shook his head. "I didn't make it a point to meet every one of them personally. And I thought there were forty or fifty of them." 

"But I did meet them," Duo protested. "I got to know them when Quatre and I hid out in the desert." 

"That was six years ago." 

"Still..." Duo stirred his noodles and pondered the information. A thin line appeared between his brows as he stared absently into the middle distance. "Have you seen anyone that looked like a Maganac? They must've been around, enough to anticipate my tricks, if they knew to stop you from getting involved." 

"I recall seeing a pair of Arab men while Hilde and I scoped the hotel. I also bumped into several on the mining asteroid." Heero sighed. "The colonies are so multi-cultural that two or three Arabs don't stand out anymore than your idiotic braid." 

"What stands out now is someone who doesn't feel like they belong," Duo observed. "You don't stand out as much now, for instance." 

Heero flashed him a look. 

"You don't." Duo was unperturbed. "But maybe that's just part of growing up, getting used to ourselves. Getting comfy in our own skin." 

"I was always comfortable in my own skin." 

"I meant it as a psychological thing, not a physical thing." Duo smiled, a little hesitantly, but his eyes crinkled. It was a true smile. "Physically...you're right. You were always comfortable." 

Heero blinked, then smiled crookedly before looking away. His heart was thumping again. His mind raced for a second, seeking a different topic. "Remember what you said about surprises?" 

Duo frowned, trying to place the comment, then smiled. "What about them?" 

"I did get several videos when I was shopping this afternoon. After dinner, you want to set the laptop up in the bedroom and watch movies?" 

The other man grinned. "We'll need popcorn and beer!" 

* * *

An hour later they were back at the apartment. Duo was setting up the laptop at the end of the futon while Heero struggled with the plastic wrap. 

"Why do they have to wrap the cases in plastic and then put more sealing tape at all the edges?" He fussed quietly and continued trying to pry the tape off the edges. It kept sticking to his fingers. 

"Want me to do it?" 

"I've got it now," Heero grumbled. "Microwave just beeped. Go get the popcorn." 

"Aye, aye, captain," Duo called, laughing quietly. 

The laptop was now perched on the box the basketball came in, and Heero hoped the monitor was large enough to make watching movies worth the effort. He'd bought two disks: impulse buys. He wondered if Duo's comment earlier was because the other man had seen the package sitting next to his stack of paperback books. 

Duo was back in a minute with a big bowl of popcorn and one of the six packs. Heero opened his drink while he waited for the movie to load. 

"The Fighting Seven," Duo read out loud. "This is a remake, right?" 

"Of a remake of a remake," Heero replied. "It's a really old story, but it was one of my favorites in college." 

"Why'd you get it, if you've seen it before?" Duo dropped the box on the floor and began propping up the pillows against the wall. "There's not going to be any suspense for you." 

"I don't watch it to see what happens," the other man said. "I just like the story." 

"But if it's been redone that many times, it's a cliché." 

"Not if it's retold well." Heero scrambled back up the futon. He'd just gotten his pillows formed into a suitable backrest when the opening credits started rolling. "This one was filmed on L1, too, just after Mariemaia." 

Duo grinned. "Oh, only five years old. As opposed to the other versions, between fifty and two hundred years old." 

"Duo?" 

"Mm-hmm?" 

"Shut up and watch the movie." 

* * *

At midnight, the consensus was that The Fighting Seven wasn't too bad, in Duo's words. The longhaired man studied the second movie and shot Heero a dubious look. 

"Are you sure about this? Usually you're in bed by now, I thought," Duo said. "Don't you have to be up in the morning?" 

"Day off. And I am in bed, technically. Tomorrow I will be sleeping very late," Heero told him. "Are you done opening that yet? Need another beer? More popcorn?" 

"No, yes, yes, in that order." 

Heero returned with the second six-pack and a new bowl of popcorn. He opened a drink for each of them while Duo started the second movie, and stared at the bowl of popcorn for a second. 

"Duo." Heero waited until Duo turned around, and threw a piece of popcorn at him. "Catch." 

"What?" The popcorn hit Duo on the head, and Heero hid a grin. Duo looked down at the piece caught on his shirt, and frowned, baffled. "You just threw popcorn at me." 

"You're supposed to catch it in your mouth." 

"You do it, then." Duo picked the piece up and threw it back at Heero, who had to dodge quickly. He didn't catch it. It bounced off his nose, and Duo laughed. "You missed, too. And you had warning!" 

"I almost got it. Try again." Heero threw another piece. It went straight over Duo's head. 

"You are a crummy shot, oh-one," Duo intoned seriously as he scooted forward and grabbed a handful of popcorn. Behind him, the movie started rolling, lighting the darkened bedroom with a flickering blue light. Duo ate a piece of popcorn and snagged a second, tossing it to Heero with a quick flick of his wrist. 

Heero caught it, and laughed softly at Duo's surprised expression. He returned fire, and Duo had to move quickly, tilting his body to the left to catch the piece. 

"Almost!" 

Heero shook his head. "You missed that one by a mile." 

Duo laughed and threw the piece back at Heero. "It wasn't my fault. You're supposed to aim for the mouth." 

"I was." Heero munched on his second successful catch and flicked a return shot at Duo. This time Duo caught it, and grinned, displaying the popcorn trapped between his front teeth. 

"You have pathetic aim," Duo repeated. Sitting up suddenly, he threw four pieces at Heero, all at the same time. "Catch!" 

Heero caught one, dismayed to find another one had gone down his shirt as he leaned forward. He wasn't sure where the other two pieces went, and Duo was too busy laughing. The dark-haired man scowled and shook his shirt, letting the popcorn fall down to his waist where he could retrieve it gracefully. 

"You have a piece stuck in your hair," Duo taunted, and leaned forward to pluck it from Heero's head. "See, it's supposed to go like this," he said, his tone light as he held the popcorn between his fingers and guided it towards Heero's mouth. "And then..." 

Heero leaned forward, catching Duo's fingers between his lips. A swift nibble against the fingertips, and the popcorn was his, and Duo was pulling away with a laugh. Heero swallowed hard, still chewing the popcorn. His stomach was shivering at the sudden touch, and he narrowed his eyes as he reached for the popcorn bowl. 

"Practice with the aim, you mean?" Heero held one piece between two fingers, balanced precariously as he leaned towards Duo. "When I throw, it should follow this arc, and end here..." Delicately, Heero placed the popcorn against Duo's softly parted lips. 

Duo's eyes were lowered, watching the popcorn, but as it touched his lips, Duo looked up, straight at Heero. In the wavering colors off the laptop screen, Duo's eyes glittered like blue-purple crescents, the black pupils large in the low light. Slowly, Duo opened his mouth, but didn't otherwise move, his eyes fixed on Heero's. The photographer froze for a heartbeat, uncertain, then let his fingers move forward, guiding the popcorn into Duo's mouth. 

Duo moved forward, just an inch. 

A second later, Duo's lips were around Heero's fingers, and the popcorn was past Duo's teeth. Heero could feel Duo's tongue, and let the popcorn slip from his fingers into the depths of Duo's mouth. Heero's breath caught as Duo's lips came down around his fingers, sliding from the last finger joints to the tip. There was an additional touch at the same time, and Heero vaguely registered it was Duo's tongue, flickering on his fingertips. 

Heero realized he'd stopped breathing, and blinked as Duo pulled away. He was crunching the popcorn noisily. Then Duo swallowed, and grinned, but his head was down, his eyes narrow and sly. 

"Close," he whispered. "But I think it needs work." Duo stuck his hand into the bowl of popcorn, never taking his eyes off Heero as he plucked another piece from the bowl. "It should go like this..." His voice trailed off as he raised the piece, caught between his forefinger and middle finger. Holding it up, as though displaying the white shape, he leaned forward. Heero instinctively leaned forward as well, his mouth opening in preparation. 

The popcorn landed gently against his lips, and Heero opened his mouth even wider. Impulsively he let his tongue flicker out, and pushed at the popcorn. It fell from Duo's fingertips and hit the bed, and Duo's eyes followed the movement. A second later Duo gasped faintly as Heero's lips wrapped around Duo's fingers, using his tongue and teeth to pull the fingers into his mouth. 

Heero watched Duo's eyes focus on Heero's mouth, and the dark-haired man let his tongue run up and down the underside of Duo's two fingers. His lips were gentle around the fingers, but when he heard the hitch in Duo's breath, Heero added teeth. He nibbled slightly before pulling back, his mouth parted a little as he watched Duo warily. 

"Oh, god," Duo breathed. 

The photographer suppressed a sudden fear that he'd done something wrong, and tried to focus around the pounding in his chest and the heat gathering in his groin. You went too far, the little voice cried. He was beginning to trust. Don't ruin it now by being stupid. 

The imperious voice was silenced suddenly as Heero took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose as he leaned forward, stretching out his hand as Duo shifted closer. Heero leaned into the movement, and was startled when his empty hand touched Duo's chin. The man's eyes were partly closed, and his breathing was soft and rapid as he froze against Heero's fingertips. 

Heero hesitated, biting his lower lip as he watched his fingers caress Duo's jaw, under Duo's chin, and then up to run his thumb against Duo's lower lip. The pilot was leaning closer. Heero leaned in, as well, fascinated by the way Duo's lips parted. The pointed tip of Duo's tongue flickered out as if tasting the air. 

"Catch what I throw," Duo whispered. 

Heero closed his eyes. 

Under his fingers, he could feel Duo leaning closer, and he nearly jerked backwards as his own thumb bumped against his chin. He let his hand fall, and some part of his brain quietly registered that his hand had just fallen on Duo's thigh. The awareness was swept away as Duo's lips touched his. 

The touch was gentle, but not still. It wasn't anything like the five kisses Heero had before in his life. He didn't know how to catalog or qualify the sensation, and pushed away the part of his brain clamoring for analysis. He only wanted the moment, pristine. Duo's lips were pliable, pressing into his, and the dark-haired man instinctively tilted his head. Duo's tongue ran along the edges of his mouth, and Heero parted his lips, welcoming Duo. 

There was a hesitation, a pause, and Duo's tongue was slipping into his mouth. Heero bit back a soft groan, letting his own tongue move forward to respond, a tentative gesture. When he heard Duo's answering moan, Heero's stomach jumped, hit against his heart, and slammed down into his groin with a resounding series of thumps. He couldn't tell whether he was the one trembling, or if that was Duo, but he wanted more. 

Without breaking the kiss, Duo was moving forward again, and Heero let his hand run up Duo's thigh, along his hip, to his waist, blindly guiding Duo forward. Heero could feel a hand against his chest, and another one on his cheek that slipped around to behind his neck as the kiss went deeper, tongues swirling against each other. Heero could see the movie's shining colors dancing against his closed eyelids, or maybe that was simply the effect of kissing Duo. 

Duo moved closer, and something beeped three times. 

Duo and Heero both jerked backwards immediately, on alert, their eyes darting around the room. Heero was reaching for a gun that wasn't there when he heard Duo chuckle. Heero blinked, uncertain, as the chuckle grew into a laugh. 

"What," Heero snapped, somewhere between fear and irritation. 

"It's the laptop," Duo replied. "I think I bumped the keyboard with my foot." 

Heero looked at the monitor. An error message was flashing, and he leaned forward, tapping at the touch pad twice. The message disappeared, and the movie started playing again. Beside him, Duo was still giggling nervously. Heero sighed, sitting back. Duo shifted around to sit next to him, his laughter subsiding. 

"So, Heero," Duo whispered. "We could watch the movie, if you'd rather." 

"Hn." Heero pretended to think, then leaned forward again and caught the laptop's lid with the tips of his fingers. One swift move, and he pulled the lid down, closing it with a solid thunk. Smirking, he turned to Duo. 

"Or not," Duo said, and kissed him again. 

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, own a strange wooden puzzle that I got for my birthday. The stupid thing is one of those that when you take it apart, you have to put it together again, and since my partner unraveled it, we haven't been able to get it back into box-shape. Please, sue me. PLEASE. You can have the stupid puzzle. Wait, you don't even have to sue me. Just take the puzzle. It's seriously crazy-making. 

Aryl: You want sweet? Yeah, I got yer sweet right here, baby! Woot! Anyway, hope you liked this one... Things are moving right along! Next chapter, we see the hackers again. 

LadyJessy: I actually have a timeline that I use to track these things. As of the 'next day' in the story (Heero's day off), it'll be thirteen days since Heero last checked in. That's why he was panicking about having to get in touch with them – so they're not forgotten. I'm not sure what they've found in the meantime, but I'm sure we'll find out soon enough. Things may move a lot faster in the story, since now Duo and Heero are back to working as partners. 

Lainwyn: I get what you mean about the possible suddenness, but I didn't want to drag the story endlessly through three more chapters of Duo playing skittish around Heero's overtures. So I tried to make it clear in the first part that Heero was trying, implied passage of time and interaction in the middle part, and demonstrated the changes as a result in the last part. Guess it didn't work well enough? There are still issues to deal with, though; these things don't go away. 

GoldenRat: That's the problem with taking Heero's point-of-view. I can't skip to someone else at this point, unless it's demonstrable in their behavior or what they say. While it's an interesting struggle for me, as a writer, this limited POV creates difficulties in exactly what you highlighted. Hopefully things will become clearer now that Duo and Heero are on the same team, and know it. 

Kiya Sama: You keep sporking me! But now you have the chapter, so happy happy yet? Duo is such the wise ass... of course he's savvy enough to track Mike, if he was savvy enough to blast the poor boy in the first place. I'm actually surprised no one suggested the idea before now – I thought that was glaringly obvious, myself. Then again, I also know what's going to happen, so I'm not really impartial. Hehe. 

Dyna Dee: I am actually one of the worst possible wait staff ever. I suck at it. I worked kitchens, mostly, so while I can slice and dice the tomatoes til the cows come home... then again, maybe it's because I am so not the picture of good customer relations. Bwahaha. But in some ways, I think this is where it gets difficult: how to portray the innately introverted Heero coming out of his shell with Duo, and doing it believably, without making him suddenly OOC. 

And, of course, I must also thank all the folks writing me directly – CleverYoung "Gimme Glomping, Damnit!" Thief, Jade "Hooked on Drums" Duo, and Casey "How Complex Can You Get" Valhalla. 

All of you reviewers just rock my world. ;-) 


	27. night is the cathedral

**01 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

This chapter contains mature sexual situations, which also happen to be M/M. If you don't wish to read, skip past the first section. If you aren't old seventeen and/or don't have parental permission to read this kind of material on the 'net, you shouldn't be reading this story anyway. 

* * *

But night is the cathedral where we recognized the sign  
We strangers know each other now  
As part of the whole design   
― Suzanne Vega 

Heero could feel the colony tilting on its axis, echoing the motion of fingertips running up and down his arm. His eyes fluttered open to see the ceiling. It was then that Heero registered he was lying down, with Duo crouched next to him, leaning into the kiss. 

He wasn't sure where to put his hands, so he kept one at Duo's waist. Duo's hand had moved to Heero's chest, fingertips trailing back and forth across his stomach, under the edge of his shirt. Heero reached up with his other hand to Duo's cheek, startled when Duo shied away from the touch. 

"Sorry," Duo murmured before continuing the kiss, his tongue slipping past Heero's lips to be greeted with Heero's own tongue. Duo's sweet heat and spicy tongue sent flames shooting down Heero's spine straight into his groin. Too busy moving his hips to ease the pressure on his cock, it slowly dawned on him that Duo was flinching under his hand's caress. 

Or perhaps trembling, Heero thought. He wasn't sure. If there had been any such movement by his previous lovers ― if such a term even applied ― it was probably due entirely to the amount of alcohol consumed. The dark-haired man cursed his rambling brain and shoved it away, determined to focus entirely on the moment. 

The first thing he realized was that Duo's fingers were undoing the button on his jeans. The second thing he realized was that he'd responded with a whimper. His stomach flip-flopped with every touch. 

Encouraged, Duo's fingers pulled on the jeans, letting the buttons pop open, one by one. Heero gasped at the brush of the night air against his body, torn between fear that Duo would keep going and fear that Duo would stop. Moisture hit his belly; his cock was hard enough to be weeping. Duo's fingers were feather-light down his length, and Heero groaned, breaking off the kiss. 

Duo smiled coyly, and leaned over further to nuzzle Heero on the cheek, running open-mouth kisses down his jaw. Duo began nibbling on Heero's ear, even as the dark-haired man clutched at Duo's shirt with both hands, biting his lower lip to keep from groaning out loud. Desperately, he bucked his hips, once, twice, trying to get more contact between Duo's taunting fingertips and his body. 

"Breathe, Heero," Duo whispered in his ear. Heero blinked, exhaling in a sudden rush that ended in a moan. The soft sound became to a loud groan as Duo's tongue entered his ear, the teasing slickness withdrawing to trace the edge of the lobe. "Tell me," Duo coaxed, and his fingers settled down onto Heero's length, palm against the head of his cock. "Tell me," Duo repeated. 

"C-c-can't," Heero finally managed to say. His hands were clenched tight enough in Duo's shirt to tear the fabric, and his hips were arched upwards, frozen under Duo's skillful hand. Duo's fingers were calloused from piloting, and the combination of rough fingertips with smooth palm was a contrast driving Heero past the point of articulate thought. 

"Open your mouth," Duo said. "I want to hear you." 

Heero gasped as Duo suddenly grasped Heero firmly, jerking along his length once or twice. It was rough and dry, but overwhelming pleasure at the same time. Heero writhed, his eyes squeezed tight as he bit down on his lower lip. The hand was withdrawn, and he whimpered. A second later the hand was replaced, but this time the palm was wet. The slick touches made Heero arch his back, thrusting upwards into Duo's touch. He cried out, a wordless shout. 

"Oh, yes," Duo encouraged. "Just like that." 

Duo's fingers tightened their grip on Heero, even as Duo nibbled on Heero's neck, licking and biting the taut tendon reaching from shoulder to ear. The young man thrashed under the combined onslaught, his body tensed as Duo increased the pace on his cock. Alternating between self-conscious moans and stifled gasps, Heero's body hovered dangerously close to the edge. He opened his eyes long enough to see Duo's deep blue eyes peering down at him, a pleased expression on Duo's face. 

"That's right," Duo coaxed. 

Heero moaned, automatically tensing even as the arousal drained from his body in a single heartbeat. One minute his muscles were thrumming, pushing him to the brink, almost there, and the next minute...nothing. Heero opened his eyes, panic starting to flood his mind. What happened? His thoughts were frantic. 

Duo's hand had frozen in place, his brow furrowed as he stared down at Heero. The man's fists were balled in Duo's shirt; his back was arched in a bow of tension, yet he'd gone completely soft. Duo blinked a few times, and then looked down at his right hand, wrapped around Heero's flaccid cock. 

Heero's eyes slowly refocused, his mind groping past the way his body was screaming for a release that wouldn't come. Panting, he sat up, blinking his eyes rapidly to fight back the tears of frustration and shame, and pulled away far enough to make Duo let go of him. Heero kept his eyes lowered as he tucked himself back into his jeans and buttoned them up. 

"Heero?" Duo finally asked, softly. Both hands were raised. It was as if Heero had simply crawled backwards out of Duo's grasp without shifting Duo from his position. "What..." 

"Sorry," Heero muttered. "I...It just all stopped...Sorry." 

"Hey," Duo said, letting his hands drop as he sat back on his heels. His shoulders were tense, and he smiled, relaxing with visible effort. "It does happen. It's okay." 

"I guess." The Wing Zero pilot still didn't look up, but tugged at the bottom of his shirt, pulling it down as he perched on his shins at the edge of the futon. "Sorry." 

"Heero," the longhaired man called, his tone gentle. "Look at me...look at me." When Heero looked up, hesitant, Duo smiled, a tight nervous expression but an honest one nonetheless. "This is where you're supposed to be all macho and say this never happens to you." 

Heero wrinkled his brow, and then raised his eyebrows in a kind of helpless hint of a smile. "It hasn't," he said. "I...None of this has ever happened before...Any of it." Heero shrugged, a tiny motion. "So...I don't know. It just...all went away." He twisted the shirt under his hands as he tried to arrange his thoughts before speaking. 

Duo waited patiently, unmoving. 

"Maybe it was just too intense," Heero offered quietly. "Just...too much. Like it mattered too much." 

There was a long silence. Finally, Duo sighed and gave a strange half-laugh. "Good to know it wasn't me, then," he said. 

"It wasn't," Heero said, quickly. The need to reassure Duo pushed its way to the front of his brain, and he shook his head. "Duo, I'm just...out of practice." 

"Out of practice," Duo repeated, puzzled. 

"But I wouldn't mind more practice," Heero told him, cocking his head at Duo. A smile tugged at the corners of Heero's mouth as he watched the other man. 

"That's the only way to make it perfect." Duo's responding smile was flirtatious, but tentative. 

"Maybe I could practice on you, instead." Heero leaned forward, his nerve returning as he decided on a new course of action. If his body was tensing up to the point of undoing the sexual tension, the small voice suggested after a quick analysis, getting interested in Duo's body might be a good distraction. 

"You don't have to..." 

Heero was pulling himself off sitting on his feet and moving into a cat-like stalk when he realized Duo was leaning back nervously. Heero paused, bewildered. "Duo? What is it?" 

"N-nothing," Duo said. "Just that...it's okay, if you...I mean, I'll understand if..." 

"Hush," Heero said, closing the distance between them to press his lips against Duo's. The other man didn't respond for a second, then his head tilted to the side and one hand came up to Heero's cheek. The photographer smiled through the kiss, darting his tongue out before nibbling on Duo's lower lip, but the entire kiss was too chaste. Slowly Heero pulled away, a slight frown marring his expression. "Duo?" 

"My turn to apologize," the other man said, ducking his head. "I guess...now I'm the one with nerves. Sorry." 

"It happens." Heero gave Duo a crooked smile, then his eyes opened in surprise as he yawned. His jaw popped, and he flinched at the crack's echo in the silent room. "What time is it, anyway?" 

Duo leaned over to the head of the futon and poked around under the fallen pillow to find the alarm clock. He sat up back up with a smile. "Two-thirty. Past your bedtime." 

"But not yours. You never go to sleep before three," Heero replied, sitting back. He wished he could get up and turn on the light, to see Duo's true expression. At the same time, he suspected Duo would have his mask firmly in place by the time Heero had reached the light switch. He sighed. "Duo, are you sure you're okay? I really am―" 

"It's alright," Duo said, flashing a quick grin. "These things happen...and you sound like you're ready for sleep anyway." 

Heero shook his head, but yawned at that same moment. Duo chuckled, and got up to grab his black pajamas. He ducked out of the room and Heero could see the bathroom light illuminate the hallway before Duo closed the door. 

Curious at Duo's unexpected physical shyness, Heero pulled off his jeans and slipped into his sweatpants. He was just pulling his night shirt over his head when he saw the bathroom light shining on the floor. There was a click, and a few seconds later Duo was crawling into bed next to him. 

The room was silent for several minutes as each young man shifted in place to get comfortable. Each was poised on the outer edges of the bed, uncertain about the new experience of falling asleep at the same time. 

"Heero," Duo breathed a few minutes later from where he lay on his back. He turned his head to look at Heero. "You still awake?" 

There was no movement, then the blankets rustled as Heero unwrapped one arm from around his pillow. Carefully, slowly, the dark-haired man reached out his hand, palm-down against the sheets, sliding it towards Duo. 

"It was good," Heero said, softly. 

A moment later Duo's hand was snaking out, palm-up, and he caught Heero's hand in his, a gentle movement. Duo's blue eyes glittered like icicles in the dark, and he turned to study the ceiling again, his fingers under Heero's, the barest of hand-clasps. 

"It'll be better next time," Duo promised. A smile flitted across his profile. When Heero said nothing in reply, Duo's breathing deepened into faint snores. Under his hand, Duo's fingers twitched a few times, caught in sleep. 

It was a long time before Heero fell asleep as well, and all that time Duo didn't let go of his fingers. When Heero woke up in the morning, they were still holding hands. 

* * *

Heero was awake at eight, three hours later than usual but two hours earlier than he'd hoped. The idea of sleeping in was a luxury he'd allowed himself at irregular intervals once graduating from college, and he'd hoped the morning off would be chance to enjoy doing so again. Annoyed, he stretched in place, waiting until Duo's breathing evened out. Then he slipped his hand from Duo's and crept quietly from the bedroom. 

Thirty minutes later he was dressed and trying to dismantle the laptop's connection so he could move it into the living room. There was a movement behind him, and a foot prodded him in the thigh. Heero glanced over his shoulder. Duo was awake, deep blue eyes blinking sleepily. 

Heero smiled, shyly. His breath caught in his throat when Duo returned the smile, only the other man's was slow and secretive. Heero raised one eyebrow as it dawned on him that Duo had what his college roommate had called a 'bedroom smile.' Duo's expression spoke of pleasure. It was several seconds before Heero could find his voice. 

"I made coffee," he said. 

Duo nodded, yawned, and sat up for a long catlike stretch before grabbing his clothes and padding off the bathroom. At the door, he turned around to speak, stretching again as he did so. 

"Leave the laptop there," he ordered. "You mind me joining you when you check in with these kids?" 

"No," Heero replied, too startled to protest. 

* * *

Duo was showered and dressed, with coffee in hand, watching as Heero logged into the hacker's forum. No one was around yet, so he posted a memo the team with a promise to check in again at the top of each hour throughout the day. 

"Now what," Duo asked. 

"I wait," Heero said, glancing at the time. "Forty-five minutes, and Rat should be checking in." He rubbed his forehead and stared at the screen for a second, sorting the information through his head. "First, though, I think we need to talk." The dark-haired man pushed himself around so he was sitting cross-legged, facing Duo. The other man's eyes were wide, surprised. 

"Is this―" 

Heero shook his head, tempering the response with a half-smile. "It's about this entire mission," he explained. "There are still things I can't figure out." 

"Okay." Duo sipped his coffee. "Not making any promises that I'll be much help." 

Heero ignored the longhaired man's flippant tone and decided to jump right into the questions. "Joe was killed after Une turned down the President's demand to shut down the investigation." Heero kept his voice flat, noting sadly Duo's perceptible wince at his deceased friend's name. 

"Yeah." 

"So there's a direct connection between the President and Joe." 

"That's one conclusion." Duo put down his mug, and pulled his braid around to the front of his chest, smoothing it with a preoccupied air. "The other is that the two are completely unrelated." 

"You said it was a clear case of sabotage." 

"Right." 

"But if the President, for whatever reason, wanted the investigation stopped, I've always thought he – or his minions – would have more sense than to make it obvious." 

Duo shrugged. "It's also possible it was a competing team." 

"Would they claim responsibility?" Heero leaned back on his hands, studying the longhaired man carefully. 

"This is organized crime, not disorganized terrorism," Duo replied. "They don't go on the nightly news to boast. The only rumors we ever heard were that Joe was giving information to a competing syndicate, hence the retribution." 

"Assume the President did order the ship's destruction," Heero suggested. "Such unmistakable sabotage was clearly meant as a message for someone. Who? Who stood to gain from having the mission ended?" 

"The syndicate," Duo replied, shrugging. "Obviously. But that doesn't apply if the bosses weren't even aware they were being investigated. Before you ask, yes, I have kept my eyes and ears open, as much as I can. None of the rest of us is under suspicion. No more than usual, at least. And if they'd thought Joe was a narc, there's no way we would've been allowed to take over." 

Heero nodded, and stared at the laptop's screen saver for a second as he sorted through his thoughts. So far, Duo wasn't saying anything he hadn't already considered. The realization struck him as amusing, given how often he'd silently complained during the war that Duo was too irreverent and haphazard. Heero wasn't aware he'd almost smiled at the thought. 

"What?" Duo's sharp eyes caught the quirk of Heero's lips, and the man was instantly on guard. 

"Just..." Heero let the expression grow into a softer smile, if still a little crooked. "Thinking of what it was like, back when I first knew you. Always going in half-cocked. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead." 

"I never said damn the torpedoes," Duo retorted, but he was grinning. "That was Heavyarms." 

Heero laughed softly, and sat up; letting his hands fall in his lap. "What if Joe's ship was blown as a warning to the Preventers?" 

"To stop investigating? It's possible." Duo grinned. "But how stupid is that? Stop this investigation―" Duo feigned a demanding tone "―and if you don't, we'll end it for you right away." 

"Did Une let anyone know the investigation was continuing?" 

The room was silent, and Duo's eyebrows slowly lowered as he considered the question. Finally he raised them with a half-shrug. "No idea. I don't think so." 

Heero nodded. "Maybe that was the point, and she got the message." 

"Why didn't she tell us?" Duo scowled. 

"What difference would it make?" 

"It would've been nice to know." 

"Technically, you're not a Preventer, so she's not obligated to tell you anything," the Wing Zero pilot pointed out. "And the less contact with you, the better. And the less you know..." Heero considered it. "I wonder if she didn't tell you because going in blind, you'd be on guard for anything." 

"As opposed to finding exactly and only what we're looking for?" Duo's eyes twinkled. "I should've known that one was coming." 

Yeah, Heero thought, amused, you should have, as the one who always reminded me that people only see what they plan to see. The security of that knowledge had given Duo the balls to walk into a number of missions as though he had every right to saunter down a hallway in a top-secret location. The same might be true for someone expecting to find gun smuggling. They could potentially miss all the signs of drug dealing, prostitution rings, or some other major syndicate moneymaking operation. 

"She probably gets your mission reports," Heero finally said. 

Duo shrugged again, but didn't say anything. He was agreeing with reservations; he didn't know for certain. 

"What does the President have to gain from leaving the syndicates alone," Heero mused. 

"If the President is in league with the syndicate, I'm not sure I'd believe that he'd have the syndicate doing the sabotage," Duo said, and flicked his hand at Heero's puzzled look. "I don't. Having the syndicate doing the dirty work is tantamount to admitting he'd let the Preventers investigate. And the syndicates are notorious about getting cranky if they're double-crossed." 

Heero frowned. "Okay...Where are you heading with this?" 

"To the kitchen, for more coffee." Duo flashed Heero one of those Cheshire grins, which grew from a small smile to a bright soul-consuming grin. 

Heero raised an eyebrow, bemused, and the next thing he knew he was staring deep into Duo's eyes and there were lips against his. A quick tongue pushed its way between his lips, teased his tongue for a flicker or two, and was gone. Heero blinked, refocusing to see Duo kneeling in front of him. 

"By the way," Duo said, that wicked grin still pasted across his face. "Good morning." 

Heero narrowed his eyes and let a quick smile dart across his lips just before he sprung, tilting his head as he pitched forward. Both hands landed on Duo's cheeks, holding the long-haired man in place as Heero pulled Duo's jaw open just a little, slipping his tongue into Duo's mouth and swirling it around several times. The Wing Zero pilot smiled at Duo's quiet responding whimper. 

He sat back on his heels with a satisfied grin. Duo's eyes were wide, and his hands were still up, as though to defend himself. Slowly Duo seemed to come to, and he lowered his hands, blushing. Heero chuckled, a low sound in his throat. 

"Good morning to you, too," Heero said. "Now go get your coffee so we can get back to figuring out what the hell our mission really is." 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, own a strange wooden puzzle that is SOLVED. Yeah, baby! Hell yeah. Three glasses of Firestone Riesling (and a full tummy of good Indian food) and I can do ANYTHING. Maybe not spell too well, but damn it, I can do crazy wooden puzzles. I still haven't figured out how I managed to get it together, but I'm not taking it apart to find out. Sue me, and I'll send you a Polaroid of the solved puzzle. 

Extra crunchy fiction goodness gratitude goes to Calic0Cat, who dutifully read through my chapter – twice – and was a huge help in making sure what you read here had any bearing in reality to what I was trying to communicate. Now, I hope, it does. So here's a solved-wooden-puzzle tip o' the hat to her Marvelousness. 

GoldenRat: I'm still not sure about this "teenage saga" thing. I'm going to take it as a compliment, which means there will NOT be a massive explosion that kills everyone in chapter 29. The explosion will be in chapter 31. Bwahaha. 

Lainwyn: Things are slowly coming together, but there are always repercussions from what we do. And if you carry around as much baggage as Duo and Heero...well, let's just say the skycaps can't always keep up. Thanks for the catch on the names – still have to go back and make that edit. Lazy me. 

SilverCaladan: Old habits die hard, and glad you're enjoying the story so far! Yes, ff.net has been strangely up-and-down over the past month, but hopefully they're getting better. So if you're all excited about the last chapter, I guess this means you're now in the category of people who shouted at their computer while reading this most recent chapter. *ow* I know, I'm a Meanie. Hehe. 

Aryl: You'll never look at popcorn the same way again, I suppose. There are motives...and in the next few chapters, the two will start figuring things out – about a lot of things. The mission, each other, etc. But we still have the bad guys to catch, so it's not over yet. ;-) 

Mashiro Karasu: *blush* Oh, I love getting reviews that say that. I try to keep interest each chapter, but I guess I'm just not cut out for short stories. This long involved kind of storytelling is just so much more fun...and reviews like yours tell me I'm not too far off on the enjoyment factor for you, too. Yay! 

Gwaren: You don't have to be good, y'know. You could just say really sweet things to me like the fact that you worship the ground I walk on, and want to send me cash, and white rabbit candies, and are willing to show up at my house and walk my beagle. Bwahaha. Beagle-walking, now there's dedication! *cough* Anyway, here's hoping this chapter gave you a few flutters and maybe a bit to think about...Hmm. 

LadyJessy: Yes. Good stuff. Definitely. Oh, wait, I suppose I should mention that what you think is the good stuff is not necessarily the same as what I think is the good stuff. See, I like it when people suffer. Not in real life, mind you, but in stories. In life, things should be happy. But in stories, happy things are boring. 

CinC: Now that you mention it, I don't know if Heero's smiled all that much around Duo up until now. He's spent most of his time with Hilde, and then Trowa, so it's not like Duo's really seen that much of 01. But they seem to be hoping to see more of each other... 

AlyRain: Oh, no, I wouldn't want to give it all away before the game's even started. Nothing like characters in the dark – especially when Heero's spent all this time hoping that Duo would have the answers, and Duo doesn't. He's only got more questions, in some ways. Hopefully it can all be wrapped up without too much bloodshed or heartbreak. Well, some, but not too much. *cackle* 

With additional thanks to CleverYoungThief, Kiya Sama, Okaasan, Jadeduo, Rosemary, Eleanagray, Casey Valhalla, and Miss Conception – thank you all for your feedback, encouragement, and general commentary! 


	28. when the wind is southerly

**01 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

I am but mad north-northwest.  
When the wind is southerly,  
I know a hawk from a handsaw.  
― William Shakespeare 

"The bottom line is really simple," Duo said as he settled himself back on the bed, next to Heero, facing the laptop. "We find out who killed Joe. And why, if possible. You could consider this whole thing just an investigation into the death of an agent while on duty." 

"Under cover of total secrecy." It was a question, but Heero turned it into a statement as he saw Duo nodding. 

"First, you hafta keep in mind that Une isn't exactly the world's favorite person. She didn't have the benefit of sealed records or anonymity like we did. There's no hiding for her, anymore than Relena can hide the fact of having cooperated with OZ." 

"But Relena did so under duress," Heero replied. 

"A technicality. People remember what they want to, and they remember the Queen of the World as an innocent pawn. They remember Une as a bloodthirsty killer willing to shoot down the colonies." 

"She was." 

"Was being the operative tense. She's done a lot in five years, if you haven't read the news." Duo stared down at his coffee. 

"I'm aware of what she's achieved," Heero told him. "But there's a lot more she could've done." 

"Not really," Duo retorted. "If she goes too far in one direction, the hawks attack her for selling out. And if she goes too far in the opposite direction, the doves come after her with accusations that she's still the same psycho bitch." 

"That would make cracking down on the syndicates hard," Heero said. "Harder if the President's in league with them." 

"If not impossible. My personal theory is that Joe's investigation was fine as long as it was gun smuggling. More people are against personal ownership of guns than are for it. But Joe found something else, and Une tried to go after it. She got shot down, and Joe along with her. She doesn't have any room to maneuver, and the only reason we do is because no one knows we're here." 

The two were silent for several minutes. Heero watched the laptop screen fade from blue to yellow, a fractal swirl, and enjoyed the heat radiating from Duo's thigh and hip being so close. Finally he shook off the fatigue and checked the computer's clock. There were fifteen more minutes before he needed to check in with the hackers again. 

"The hackers determined Quatre's one of two sources for the track bots." Heero listed the messages the hackers had decoded. Duo furrowed his brow at several points, but didn't interrupt. The photographer ran a hand through his hair and tapped the laptop's touchpad to reactivate the screen. "I thought it was Quatre talking to you or Trowa," he said. 

"The 'I love you, be safe' wouldn't be to me," Duo joked in reply. "But as far as I know, if Trowa was reading it, he kept it from the rest of us." 

"Did he know you were sending pictures of him to Quatre?" Heero raised an eyebrow at the longhaired man, who blushed. 

"Well..." Duo hedged. "He knew I was sending reports." 

"Can I ask you something?" 

"I guess." 

"When I saw Wufei, he was―" Heero broke off his words when Duo lifted a hand as if to stop him. 

"Oh. No. Let's not go there," Duo said quietly. "There's really never any good timing for some things, and Wufei took it a little personally." 

Heero waited. 

Duo stared the laptop screen, then at his cup of coffee, and then at the floor. Finally he shifted in place, scratched his nose, and sighed. "You know that whole deal with losing his wife, just when he figured out she might be someone worth knowing...worth loving...after all? He's a little obsessed with not letting any of us miss that chance, if we've got it." 

"And he thought Trowa and Quatre have that chance," Heero concluded softly. 

"They would, if Quatre ever got off his ass and stopped taking Trowa for granted," Duo spat with unexpected force. "I love Quatre like a brother but he just strings Trowa along...and I'd gone to ask his help but when I saw what he was like now..." He shrugged, turning his face away. "Quatre's all business, all politics, and he doesn't see anything wrong with domesticating Trowa. And he won't even..." 

Duo ducked his head, exhaling softly. Heero waited until the Deathscythe pilot had himself under control, and hesitantly put a hand on Duo's knee. The man flinched under the touch, then gradually relaxed, raising his head to give Heero a sad smile. 

"Sorry," Duo murmured. "I...we...decided to take his help after we were settled in a routine here, but still...it was a bad scene." 

"Understood," Heero said. A bad scene that everyone remembers differently, the small voice pointed out. He ignored the mental comment. It was too late now to undo how it all started; it wasn't too late to make sure everything was resolved in the end. The fact that all five were still working together, in some manner, was at least a good sign, Heero reminded himself. 

"Time yet to check in?" Duo asked. 

"Five more minutes," Heero said. "That's the other half of what I wanted to talk to you about. I don't know if I'll need the hackers anymore, but they're willing to help if there's a way to use them." 

"I bet there would be. There's a lot I couldn't do from L2, thanks to the ship's T9 being syndicate-operated. And the decrypting and hacking software I'd need means I can't do much from the independent 'net cafés on the colony. What have you had them doing?" 

"I'd think you'd know all of it," Heero teased, his expression bland. "Two of the hackers, Rat and Rosie, were parsing the track bot uploads. Pinky and Allie were trying to identify a Zurich bank account. Mike, Snappy, Rat, and Snake were all working on decoding the headers for your mission reports." 

"Which they discovered are pictures," Duo added with a quick grin. "But no more than that." 

Heero ignored the jibe. "The track bot uploads came from Quatre's account and someone else's, which they couldn't identify but were still trying last I heard. Now that I know Quatre's actively involved, I'd guess the Zurich bank account is also his." 

"Probably. You know anyone else who uses top-security banking systems?" 

Heero shrugged nonchalantly, but his lips twitched up at the corners. Top-security unless it was up against a group of overeager hackers with a willingness to break and enter, he thought. 

"Which means," Duo said after a pause, "that all the assignments you gave them are now obsolete." 

"Looks like it." Heero watched Duo fiddle with the braid, and smiled crookedly. "I was thinking of having them start traces on the activity going through the L2 server relays around May of this year." 

Duo gaped. "That could be millions of messages." 

"Not once they narrowed it down to only messages originating from the ISP used by the President's personal quarters and Council headquarters." 

"That's still potentially hundreds of headers for a single eight-hour period." Duo shook his head. "I can't believe the president would be stupid enough to send email from his personal address that says outright, 'go kill this annoying person.' The message wouldn't just be encrypted, it'd be in code." Duo rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You're asking them to find a needle in a haystack...from a mile away." 

Heero snorted. "We need something that draws a line between the President, or his staff, and Joe's death. The timing is too coincidental. And if anyone can find that message, the hacker team can." 

"I'll believe that when I see it." 

* * *

The hackers' forum was empty when Heero logged back in, and he willingly relinquished the computer to Duo for several minutes. Duo leaned over the laptop, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he grinned at the screen. When Heero returned from refilling their coffee cups, Duo was cackling softly. 

"Look at this," he said as Heero sat next to him. "Now we're both in." 

"What did you do?" 

"I opened a command window, jumped from our dialing line, patched into the nearest ISP connection, and came at the forum that way. Anyone looking at the connection would think we're as far as several blocks away from each other. Definitely not in the same apartment, at least." Duo squinted at the green words on the black background of the command window, and hit a few keys. 

Trust Duo to not do anything by halves, if it could be done by quarters with twice as much effort with no more gain. Heero rolled his eyes at his partner's back. 

"Elaborate. Probably pointless. What's your speed?" 

"Seventy-eight." 

"That's pretty slow. You'll be lagged." 

Duo chuckled. "Not once I'm finished." 

Heero sighed and stared at the screen, a foreboding sense filling his gut. "Duo...what are you doing?" 

"Flooding the upload points. The server will divert to handle the torrent exchange as though it's heavy traffic, and the forum will get less attention from the relays. Ta-dah, it all slows down." Duo elbowed him. "What happened to your hacking skills?" 

"I traded them in for a darkroom," the photographer retorted, watching the forum. Rat had just entered, and the yellow smiley-face was being greeted. "Give me back the keyboard," Heero ordered. Duo pulled back, and Heero turned the laptop towards himself, leaning forward to jump windows and type a greeting to Rat. 

"We were about to send out a search party," Rat replied. His blue avatar wriggled its whiskers, and Heero smiled a little to see the familiar dove's wing replace the generic smiley-face avatar. 

"Been busy," Heero told him. "Any chance of getting the rest in here this morning?" 

"I can try," Rat typed. "I sent out an alert as soon as I got your message. We'll see who replies. You want to set up a time?" 

"One hour from now?" 

"Sounds good." Rat waved. "By then, I'll have shot down the jerk in your apartment building that's flooding the forum." 

Heero snorted and logged off without response. 

Duo squawked as he looked over to see Heero had shut down the command window as well. "That was a nightmare setting that up," he protested. "And you just―" 

"These kids are the whole reason I found you," Heero said, cutting the longhaired man off with a glare. "Even if Rat hadn't noticed your tricks, I'm still not going to let you flood their forum for the next hour simply because you can." 

"Then you gotta make it up to me." Duo's face took on a smug expression, and he uncrossed his arms, leaning forward. 

"I presume you have something in mind." 

"Or in body," Duo replied, leaning forward to close the distance between their lips. 

* * *

It was a half hour later when Heero and Duo surfaced from another long kiss in a series of long kisses. Lying side by side diagonally on the futon, Duo's shirt was askew, pushed halfway up his chest. Heero's shirt was laying where it had been thrown across the laptop keyboard. Both pairs of jeans were intact, but Duo had been persistently, if subtly, trying to work in a specific direction on the buttons of Heero's jeans. 

Heero murmured something inaudible and shifted closer to Duo. The fingers snaking into his jeans were now trapped. The dark-haired man grinned momentarily as he suckled at the base of Duo's neck. 

"Heero," Duo groaned. "Let me..." 

Heero rolled away, sitting up in a smooth motion. Sighing, he scooted back, leaning over Duo to run his fingers across Duo's flushed face. Duo's dark blue eyes were half-closed, and that sweet seductive smile played along the edges of his lips. He looked utterly kissable, and Heero gave into the temptation before pulling away again. Duo whined softly, deep in his throat. 

"No," Heero said. "I mean...There's no reason to rush." 

"I know that," Duo protested, pouting slightly as he pushed himself up to a sitting position facing Heero. "But if you want to...and I want to...we can try again." 

"I do," Heero reassured the other young man. "But I think last night...was too soon, too much, and that's...frightening." 

"I'm scared, too," Duo whispered, but he didn't quite meet Heero's eyes. He was staring at the futon instead. His fingers plucked nervously at the hems of his jeans as he pulled his legs to sit cross-legged under him. 

"I know. It's just...You matter to me," Heero confessed nervously. "You always have, even when I couldn't or wouldn't let you know." His voice dropped to a whisper. "...Or even admit it myself. So I want all of...this...to matter, too." 

"It _does_ matter." Deathscythe's pilot's head was down, his fingers twisting in the sheets. 

Heero moved closer. Shyly he reached out, taking one of Duo's hands in his own and holding it gently. "I know it does. So let's take our time..?" Heero's statement shifted to a question on the last word, coming up in pitch as he tried to peer into Duo's lowered eyes. Finally Duo nodded, once. 

The dark-haired man sighed, and kissed Duo tenderly on the cheek. Duo's fingers tightened, but the young man didn't otherwise move to respond. Those deep blue eyes were still hooded, and Heero sighed again, leaning his forehead against Duo's. 

I wish you'd just tell me what's in your head, Heero thought. "We have a half-hour. I'll make lunch while we wait," he offered, and after a pause, Duo nodded. 

* * *

Rat, Snake, Pinky, Snappy and Mike were waiting in the forum when Heero returned at the top of the hour. By the time Rat had completed switching the smiley-face avatar to the dove's wing, Duo had commandeered the laptop and was rapidly setting up the command window. 

"Give it back now," Heero warned. 

"Almost done," Duo said, opening a second window. 

"No, you're completely done. Don't flood the forum, or I'll..." Heero paused, trying to think of a decent threat. He noticed Duo regarding him with raised eyebrows, a look of sudden interest on the young man's face. Heero snorted. "No kisses until your next day off." 

Duo's hands were off the keyboard in a heartbeat. The thief threw himself backwards on the bed, his arms spread as he laughed. "Never thought I'd see the day you'd threaten me with that," he cried. "I was expecting a gun!" 

"Idiot," Heero replied, and hunched over the keyboard. 

"Wing," Rat said. "Rosie and Allie sent word they'll be here as soon as they can." 

"Good. What's Mike doing out of school?" 

"I'm not out of school." The Hand avatar wiggled its fingers at the dove's wing. "It's my free period. I'm in a storage closet right now." 

"I see." Heero stopped for a second, wondering how he'd phrase what he needed to tell the team. Behind him, Duo struggled into a seated position, draping an arm across the Wing Zero pilot as he watched the screen over Heero's shoulder. 

"Just tell them straight out," Duo said, understanding intuitively what had Heero's fingers hovering uncertainly over the keyboard. 

"I've gotten more information," Heero typed. "And much of what you were doing is now irrelevant. It's nearly certain that both Zurich accounts are Sandrock's. The track bots contained messages set for Sandrock's personal corps. We're not sure how or why they were involved, but they are. The files sent from the Maxwell bank account contain pictures and progress reports between Deathscythe and Sandrock." 

"Whew," Pinky said. "How'd you find all this out?" 

Duo nudged Heero, who obliged. Leaning past Heero, Duo jumped to the command window and typed in a series of quick lines. A second later, a new avatar appeared in the forum. It was a newly registered member, with a devil's wing as its avatar, and using the name of Deathscythe. 

Rat immediately responded. "Fifteen seconds to change your alias." 

The line was entered, but clearly incomplete, lacking any comment about the use of Gundam names. The room was quiet, as the rest of the team waited for an explanation from Rat. The blue avatar shook several times before settling down. Duo glanced at Heero, who shrugged. 

When Rat continued his line, it was an abrupt departure from the expected comment. "Deathscythe," came the statement. Rat's avatar was pointing at the dove's wing, an implied question. 

Heero didn't respond. The command window was still in control of the connection, and Duo grinned wickedly as he leaned forward. "Test me, if you want," he typed. 

Mike's avatar was wilting, while the girl avatar's pink braids were standing on end. The snake avatar was flicking his tongue in and out repeatedly. Snappy's avatar hadn't moved. A new avatar entered, a red rose. 

"Oh, another Gundam?" Rosie asked, then looked around as no one responded. "What? What's going on?" 

"No one wants to test me?" Duo's grin was getting wider, and Heero bit back a sigh. Duo was clearly enjoying the effect he was having on the crowd. 

"If that's him, keep him away from me," Mike finally squeaked. 

"Nice to meet you in person," Duo replied. "Or in forum. And yeah, it's me." 

Suddenly, Mike was kicked from the forum. Heero frowned and leaned forward. The Hand usually only flew out the door from disrespecting elite hackers, and he'd done nothing this time. The surprise coming from Rat's avatar made it clear he'd not been the one doing the kicking. A second later Mike was back in the forum, his fingers folded down except for his middle finger. 

"Screw you, man," Mike said, doing his best attempt at bravado. 

"Anytime," Duo typed gleefully. "This is the same Mike who lives in Sector 8 of L1, bantamweight wrestler, works part-time at a shoe store...Right?" 

"How the hell―" Mike only had the time to get out three words and he was gone again. 

Duo's fingers were flying at top speed across the keyboard, and there was a look of intense concentration in the man's eyes. Even out of practice with hacking, Heero could tell Duo was having to work at twice his top speed to compensate for the lag due to the way he'd piggybacked through the system. The Hand reappeared, its fingers drooping slightly as it realized no one else was stepping in. 

"Oh," Duo added, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest, "you're welcome for that A in history." He kicked the avatar one more time. 

"Duo, enough," Heero ordered, shoving Duo a little. "Give me back the laptop and stop that. Mike's a good kid." The Hand avatar reappeared, but this time didn't say anything. 

"Whatever you say, oh-one," Duo taunted as he moved away from the computer. "But I've got a reputation to uphold." 

Heero jumped from the command window the main forum window and replied to Duo in the window. "Cease and desist, Deathscythe," he typed. 

Naturally, there was no movement from the temporarily inactive avatar. Next to Heero, the longhaired man seemed to be sulking quietly. 

"Stop that, or I'll tell them you're pouting," Heero whispered. He turned his attention back to the window and began filling the waiting avatars in on the news. "All current projects are now irrelevant, but 02 and I have a use for your skills, if you're willing and able. It's much higher risk, and we can't give you the big picture, for several reasons. One, we don't know it all, and two, ignorance could save your lives at some point." 

"It could also kill us," Snake pointed out. "We're not stupid. We know you don't exactly work on peanut-level stuff." 

"The drawbacks of knowing outweigh the benefits," Heero replied. "All information from now on is strictly need-to-know." 

"You've been open with us before now," Pinky said. "We've done everything we could to help, and never asked for much in return." 

"I know. You're a great team," Heero said. "It's been nothing but a pleasure working with you. But you're not trained soldiers, and I won't forget that. If I tell you the repercussions of the mission, knowing that extent could easily unnerve you to the point of losing the distance you need to hack efficiently." 

There was a long silence as the hackers digested Heero's response. Duo nudged him in the ribs and Heero pulled away from the laptop. Duo leaned forward, typing rapidly in the command window for several minutes. On the forum screen, his words showed up and the rest of the hackers watched carefully. Heero wondered idly if Mike was contemplating changing his name, moving, getting a new job, and contacting the school to correct his grades, all at the same time. 

"Wing's right," Duo had typed. "Normally I'd be all for telling you everything, but you're civilians. If you're with us, then perform the tasks we assign and tell us of anything unusual you find. But don't, under any circumstances, go looking for trouble. Leave that to us." 

"You're the professionals," Rat said, and the whiskers on his avatar wiggled. "Can you give us an idea of the scope before we decide?" 

Duo handed the keyboard back to Heero, who took a deep breath before explaining the email header search he wanted the team to perform. The forum froze for several minutes, and Duo glanced at Heero, a puzzled look on his face. Heero noticed the glance and shrugged. 

"They're debating," he explained. "They decide these things as a team. Rat's their unofficial leader." 

"So they're your illegal subcontractors," Duo joked. "You think they'll do it?" 

"I hope so," the dark-haired man said, frowning as he studied the frozen forum window. "It'd be an nightmare for the two of us to go through a week or two worth of headers." 

The forum window flickered, indicating movement, and Heero looked down to see Rat's affirmative reply. 

"It sounds like a hell job," the team leader was saying. "But we'll do it. We'd like to break it up into equal parts for each of us. Pinky, Snappy and I will start with breaking into the servers to download the headers for the first two weeks of May." 

"Good," Heero said, breathing a sigh of relief. 

Duo tapped the back of Heero's right hand, and Heero moved out of the way so Duo could join in the conversation. 

"Also make a point to look for email headers going to europa-dot-moonscape," the Deathscythe pilot told the forum. "That's the T9 run by a company that's one of the suspects. If you find something and it's also come through that server, consider it doubly suspicious. Moonscape is used as one of the money-laundering covers for the L2 syndicate, so be especially careful when moving around their systems." Duo handed the keyboard back to Heero. 

"Warning taken," Snappy replied. 

"I'll check back in a week," Heero said. "Thanks again, everyone. Wing out." He sighed, and wondered momentarily whether this was a good idea. Then he cut the connection. 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, own a new dictionary of Scots Dialect, aka 'lawlans' and 'borderlands' with which I shall tackle Tim's speech. That is to say, I've got something nifty that will make one of my other stories better. It has nothing to do with Drums. No one in Drums is a short, half-sheep, Scottish Urisk who's been living in Chinatown for the past hundred years. Well, then again, it would explain a few things about Duo. 

Special notice and awards and general white rabbit candy delivery goes to Lainwyn, who read through the Difficult Parts of this chapter and thwapped me upside the head on whether it made sense. Cause, y'know, those Grad Students are hell on wheels when it comes to faking high technology. (Heh.) 

Alyrain: I do appreciate that you also appreciate the fact that good sex doesn't happen immediately. Hell, sometimes sex doesn't even happen. I know, I know, I had plenty of folks writing me demanding a lemon, but...it just wasn't right. It didn't belong. 

Aroni: I'm sure you're enjoying the more hacking this chapter, then! Duo had to get out and make some trouble, of course, but the interlude indicates the two are trying to work on their friendship/relationship/whatever-it-is. Hopefully the story keeps your interest – it's going to start moving fast for the next few chapters. (I hope. I plan on it, at least.) 

GoldenRat: Not a mini-lemon. A grapefruit. It's a lemon-that-didn't-happen. Heh. (With credit to CYT for the term.) 

Dyna: Oh, there's issues all over the place with these two. I honestly had no idea, or I would've skipped this entire story and gone straight to Meeting Beatrice! But anyway...yes, control is a big part of it. Surprisingly (as GoldenRat also noted), Heero seems to have less control issues now than Duo. I'm not sure why, but I suspect it's something to do with the fact that Heero has spent a lot of time in therapy, and dealing with the publishing and art worlds is a fast way to realize one simply can't be in control of everything. Or, as a corollary, the fact that people who have the least control in some areas will demand it the most in other areas to compensate. I suppose as Heero gets more comfortable in his role with Hilde's team, the less he needs to clamp down on his vulnerability. 

With additional cries of mucho gracias for those folks encouraging me via email: Jadeduo, Koyote, Casey Valhalla, Lainwyn, Kiya Sama, and Calic0Cat. 

Happy Scots Dictionaries, everyone! ;-) 


	29. they say that Venus she rises

**01 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

Baby, when the bands and the barkers go home   
They say that Venus she rises   
From out of the foam  
― Marc Cohn 

Life returned to its normal working schedule the next day. Heero spent the afternoon braving the cold to take pictures, only to come home, eat dinner, and read until falling asleep before midnight. Duo returned sometime around two in the morning. The sole change in the pattern was when Duo crawled into bed, beside the barely alert Heero. 

Duo's hand slid over the sheets, stretching across the gap between them. Heero wondered if he should pretend to be asleep. A few minutes passed, and when Duo's breathing had evened out, Heero's own hand shyly found its way to the thief's. 

The next night, Heero had his hand out, waiting, when he heard the front door unlock. 

Neither was comfortable talking about their relationship, and it didn't help that they didn't have much time. But they had grown secure with falling back into the patterns from being wartime roommates, with a new factor the second time around. Now they slept, every night, holding hands. 

* * *

Forty days to mission start, when Duo's evening off finally arrived. Heero came home to find his roommate had splurged on out-of-season vegetables at the grocery store. He watched as Duo put everything away, listening politely to the young man's nonstop chatter about the latest evening shift gossip. Heero was surprised to find himself enjoying the chance to listen to Duo ramble. Since his last day off seven days before, the closest thing they'd had to a conversation were notes left on the kitchen countertop. 

Later that afternoon, Heero logged into the hacker's forum while Duo cooked dinner. Duo glanced over Heero's shoulder at random intervals to make comments he wanted passed along to torment Mike the Hand. Heero ignored both his roommate's mocking threats and the hacker's intimidated bluster. 

Rat reported it had taken three days to work past the complex security systems around the Unified Earth Sphere's server systems, and another day to break into the email cache for the service provider created for the President's personal residence. Once they were in, it had taken another three days of judicious and skillful maneuvering through low-risk areas to find a back door through which to download the cache files. 

The two ex-Gundam pilots celebrated the minor progress by renting four videos from the rental place down the street. Unable to agree on their preferences, they flipped for the first choice and traded off. 

Heero's choice led the evening, followed by Duo's. Heero's second choice was being ignored by the time the opening credits finished rolling. The two young men were lying on the futon, fully clothed, kissing through soft sighs and inarticulate murmurs. By the time the third movie was done, both had fallen asleep, victims to too much beer, full stomachs, and the comfort of security. 

* * *

The next day was Heero's morning off. He slept in, did laundry, and Duo made lunch before the pilot left for work. When the door shut behind the longhaired man, Heero flipped open the laptop and logged into the hacker's forum. Scrolling down the list of avatars, he opened a window with Pinky. 

"Have you continued to monitor the Maxwell bank account?" 

The avatar wiggled its pigtails. "About once a week. Want me to check for you?" 

"Yes," Heero answered. Pinky went on stand-by, and Heero filled the time answering various Gundam-related questions from some of the other hackers involved. It had been over a month since he'd had the time to do so, and he figured they'd waited patiently for long enough. 

Pinky returned an hour later, and opened the private message. "Nothing since last month, but I'll monitor the account." 

"Send me an alert if there's activity." 

He spent the rest of the day working quietly on the laptop, familiarizing himself with the hacking and decrypting programs Duo had installed. As the days grew shorter, heading for the colony's falsified equinox, Heero spent more of his afternoons indoors, carefully dismantling and rearranging the programs Duo created each night. He wasn't certain whether Duo knew of his work. Heero figured he'd be surprised if Duo didn't; yet flattered if he'd slipped past the thief's notice. 

It didn't matter, in the end. They shared the laptop, this second time around, and there were fewer secrets. Besides, Heero was catching up rapidly. Like shooting and fighting, hacking came back easily. 

* * *

Three days later, Heero received the alert from Pinky. 

"Transfer yesterday, around eleven in the morning standard time." There was an address, and Heero logged onto the forum to access the file. What he saw was the last thing he expected. 

It was a picture of him, sleeping. Heero's fingers paused over the keys, stunned, taking in the drift of the sheet across his chest, the white nearly glowing in the long shutter time. His hair was in his face, obscuring his closed eyes, and his lips were softly parted. One hand was draped across his chest. 

Heero realized Pinky was messaging him again, and he pulled his attention back to the window. "Is this the complete file?" 

"The whole kit," came the response. 

"Thanks for getting it. I'll be back in three days for the regular check-in." Heero logged off. He saved the picture file to his own protected file, and sat back, bemused and flattered at the same time. 

He made short work of narrowing down the possible algorithms to decrypt the picture. It was a combination of having learnt the more recent programming fads, and the previous two weeks of reacquainting himself with the other young man's personal style. His third choice cracked the code, and Heero sat back on his heels with a satisfied smile as the file resolved itself into a watermark. Running the file through an image-processing program, the two layers divided. Reversing the image to black-on-white, he enlarged the image for easier viewing. 

"Hey 04," Heero read. "Waiting tables. That's right, waiting tables. Preparing for L4 shindig, end of January. Made 350 credits Saturday night." 

He whistled under his breath. So that's why the idiot refused morning shifts. He made a note to speak to Frank about switching his schedule. His daily take, on average, was only 275 credits. 

"It's not a lot. Pickpockets have it easier. Make the same amount, and don't have to stand up as much. HS still on L2, doing odd jobs for Pops. Might come to L4 around New Year's to visit but isn't sure." 

HS...Hilde Schbeiker, visiting over New Year's? When was he was planning on letting me know, Heero wondered. He frowned at the laptop screen. 

"03 got the gig with the dance troupe on L3, but not performing over New Years. HS wants him to come to L4, too." 

We'll need a second futon after all. Heero sighed and scratched his head. Duo hasn't mentioned any of this, he grumbled. Perhaps Duo thought it would make a great surprise. 

"Hope you and 05 are doing well. Give RD my love." 

Heero blinked. RD. Relena? 

"01's hackers broke your track bots, if you were wondering. Thinks you've got your goons tailing us. What did you think that would achieve?" 

And just how did Duo expect Quatre to respond, Heero mused. Or perhaps the Deathscythe pilot had grown accustomed to the rhetorical questions, and asked them if only to let Quatre know none of it was lost on Duo. A progress report full of last words, on every issue raised. 

"Big party on L4, New Year's Eve. Thinking of joining it, but it's at the hotel. Too bad RD's not here to give me tips on party crashing etiquette." 

Heero paused, trying to remember what he'd heard from the rest of the staff. The hotel owners were hosting a New Year's Eve celebration. It had a theme, the small voice reminded him, being the part of his mind that always seemed to track the trivial details. He shook his head. 

"Using hackers to search for connection between Top Dog and L2 snakes. Some headway getting into servers. Will send another report when we hear more." 

That was it. No other explanation, no closing statements. Heero re-read the image once more, then shut the file down and locked it away in his protected personal folder. After a minute, he re-opened the folder and deleted the file. If Duo wanted in, he'd get in, Heero was certain. Carefully he cleaned out any indication of the file or his work decrypting it, and shut the laptop down. 

The letter was chatty, disorganized, and most of the information was completely between the lines. Even the image itself carried a message, after what Duo had said about the falling-out that led to Trowa joining the mission instead of Quatre. What was he telling Quatre with a picture of Heero, sleeping? Why didn't Duo send a picture of himself, instead? 

Shaking his head, Heero filed the information in the back of his head and decided to wait until their next day off together. If Duo hadn't said anything by then, the two of them would have words. There was no way he would be happy about unexpected guests. He'd suffered through a month and a half of sharing a ten by fifteen foot space with Trowa, and now that he had some semblance of daily privacy, he'd be damned if he was going to share it with anyone other than Duo. 

* * *

Both young men had worked three days past their expected days off, between sick co-workers and shifting schedules. The days had tumbled on top of each other, the colony's winter settling completely by late December. Even in space, winter holidays required hospitality workers on the job. It was with some relief that Heero woke up on December twenty-seven at five in the morning, stared at the ceiling for several minutes, and fell back asleep. 

At ten in the morning, Heero came wide-awake, his mind automatically tallying the date. Thirty-one days to mission start. He rolled over to see Duo watching him. 

"I get the shower first," Duo announced, yawning as he stumbled to his feet. "Thought I was going to pass out last night while brushing my teeth." He grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt from the closet, tossing them over his shoulder as he left the bedroom. Duo paused in the doorway with a strange half-smile on his face. "Message for you on the laptop's main window. Email from Hilde." 

Heero rubbed his eyes and scowled at his roommate's departing back. Five minutes later he was dressed and waiting for the coffee to perk, starting up the laptop with barely concealed irritation. He'd managed to stifle the urge to strangle Duo for not saying anything earlier, but it had been a close call, a few times. 

Then again, Heero admitted to himself, sometimes he contemplated strangling Duo for the smallest of reasons. The amount of hair in the shower each morning was usually enough to prompt a short but satisfying fantasy involving scissors. 

The coffee pot chirped, and Heero got up to pour himself a cup before settling back down in front of the laptop. There, on the desktop window, was an email from Hilde. Almost as chatty as Duo's report to Quatre, it too contained no real information but plenty of subtext. Rereading it several times, Heero realized it meant she and Trowa would be arriving at the L4 shuttle bay on December thirtieth. 

Three days. 

When Duo got out of the shower, Heero was perched on the kitchen countertop, pouring a second mug of coffee next to his own. Duo was fully dressed in his usual long-sleeved black shirt and black jeans, but he hadn't braided his hair. It hung like a damp rope down his chest as he wrapped a towel around it, wringing the dark brown mass thoroughly. Throwing the towel over his shoulder, Duo took the coffee mug with an appreciative nod, stirring in two sugars and double milk before raising his eyebrows at the staring man. 

"What?" Duo scrunched up his nose. "Did I not get all the soap out of my hair again?" 

"Idiot," Heero growled, but it wasn't an angry sound. He was finding it harder, over the past two weeks, to stay angry for long once Duo turned those wide indigo eyes his way. "It didn't sound like this was an impromptu idea from Hilde." 

"Not really," Duo agreed, pulling the towel off his shoulders to wring his hair a few more times. "I invited her awhile back, but she didn't know if she and Trowa could make it until a day or so ago, I guess." 

"Where were you planning on putting them?" 

"Putting..." Duo looked up, surprised, then shrugged. He tossed the towel across the kitchen, and it hit front door and slid to the floor. Heero made a face, and Duo grinned. "They'll be fine sleeping on the ship. You didn't think I'd let them stay here, did you?" 

Heero scowled, but didn't say anything. Duo grinned again, an impish expression, and leaned forward to plant open-mouth kisses along Heero's jaw line. 

"I'll admit you had me worried," Heero muttered. Duo pulled away, a line appearing between his brows as he canted his head at the dark-haired man. Heero shrugged. "I like Trowa and Hilde, but..." 

"I got it," Duo said, and grinned. "What's on the agenda for today?" 

"Two things. First, I need to go shopping." 

There was a pause, while Duo digested his roommate's announcement. He made a show of cleaning out his ears with his forefingers, after which he looked expectantly at Heero as he replied. "Come again?" 

Heero crossed his arms. "You heard me fine the first time. I need socks." 

"Well, I hope you also meant for groceries, because we're out of beer again. I'll make a list." Duo set the coffee down. A few minutes later, he'd worked his way through the little refrigerator and cupboards, while Heero dutifully wrote down everything Duo listed. Duo studied the last cabinet door thoughtfully before turning to Heero with a puzzled expression. "Did you ever say what the second thing was?" 

"No." Heero's lips twitched, and he hopped down from the countertop. A minute later he returned from the bedroom with two packages, both wrapped in gaily-colored paper and tied with red ribbons. "This was the second thing." 

"Second and third, looks like." Duo grinned shyly, and knelt down by the sink, digging around in the lower cabinets. A minute later he stood up, holding a shoebox-sized gift wrapped in white paper and stuck with a large blue bow. 

The two young men stared at the gifts in each other's hands, and without further conversation, seated themselves on the pillows in the living room. Sliding the gifts towards each other, both stared for a few seconds more. Heero fiddled nervously with the bow before carefully removing it, then he bit his lower lip and tore the paper off the box. Duo, busy trying to undo the tape off his larger present, raised his eyebrows at Heero's unexpectedly exuberant ripping. 

"You got me a pair of shoes?" Heero frowned at the box, but Duo noticed the way his lips twitched. Heero ducked his head, lifting the box lid to find three new science fiction novels in the series he'd just started, two pairs of wool socks, and a paper-wrapped box a little longer than his hand but no bigger around than two fingers. 

Setting the books and socks next to him, Heero watched as Duo finally set aside the neatly folded wrapping paper. The dark-haired man wrinkled his brow at the action. "Are you planning on saving the paper? You don't need to..." 

"I know," came the young man's soft reply. "But this way I feel less guilty for not re-using it." Duo fingered the two new work ties in his hands, a pleased smile on his lips, then set them aside to open the smaller present. Inside the box was a silver chain. Duo lifted it up, his indigo eyes going lighter with surprise to an almost twilight blue. The charm on the chain was a little devil, its wings spread. "You got me a demon," Duo chuckled, then leaned over to give Heero a quick peck on the lips. "Open yours." 

Heero made short shrift of the package in his hands, stunned to discover it was a slim wooden box with a top that lifted up. Opening it, he found two delicately carved wooden chopsticks. 

"They're bento chopsticks," Duo explained. "I know you're a Colonial, but I remember you used to read a lot about Japan when we were in school. And I heard in Japan people carry their own personal chopsticks around with them." 

Unable to voice his feelings, Heero settled for smiling. 

* * *

Day twenty-eight, Heero thought. December thirtieth, and Hilde and Trowa should be on the colony by now. Heero was on schedule New Year's morning, but would have the night before free. He'd only found out the day before that Duo had managed also to get the night off. In the locker room, Heero could hear several of the wait staff wondering out loud who Duo had slept with to get New Year's Eve. Heero scowled at the gossip, tired after six tables of eight people each and not interested in overhearing people joke about his roommate's sex life. 

Coming out of the employee's dressing rooms, he caught sight of a familiar braid. "Day!" Heero snagged the pilot by the elbow. "Are they here yet? Did you leave them at the apartment?" 

"Yes and no," Duo replied, grinning. "They're here, but out doing errands in Sector Five. We're going to a party tomorrow night, and Hel said we'd need stuff. They're coming back to the apartment for dinner. I made plenty for lunch so you can have the leftovers tonight. Gotta run or Frank'll have my ass." 

"Then run," Heero said, his eyes narrowed. He dropped his voice to barely above a whisper. "I'm the only who gets your ass." 

Duo's eyebrows shot up. He had just barely recovered by the time Heero was already gone. 

* * *

When the knock came, Heero shut down the laptop screen and opened the door to find Hilde, Trowa, and four large shopping bags. Hilde's face was red from the colony's winter chill, and she kissed Heero quickly on the cheek. Trowa smiled in greeting behind her, his expression amused as he followed the brunette into the apartment's warmth. 

"What is all this?" Heero scratched his head as Hilde started pulling clothes out of the bags. 

"Costumes," she replied, nodding in clear satisfaction as she held up a pair of pants against Heero's legs. "What does it look like?" 

Behind her, Trowa pulled a large hat out of one of the bags, and smoothed the ostrich feather before setting the hat down on the countertop. The taller pilot upturned the bag, and a pair of pants tumbled out, followed by a shirt, a long sash, and a pair of boots. 

"I can see they're costumes," Heero replied, still bewildered. "Did you buy all of them today?" 

"Of course," the petite brunette said. "Look, just tuck the price tag into the outfit, make sure you don't spill anything on yourself, and Duo can return it all on his next day off. Tell them none of it fit. Except the shoes. You'll have to keep those. Once you walk in them, it's hard to hide that." 

Heero nodded, numbly, then frowned again as Hilde turned him around and pressed another garment up against his chest. She was obviously matching it for fit, but all he could see was black cotton, and ruffles on what looked like the sleeves. He twisted around, trying to see what she was doing. "You still haven't told me why you got them." 

"The party tomorrow night," Trowa finally said, shaking his head as he did his best not to laugh at Hilde's frenzied searching through the bags. "It's a Fairy Tale-themed costume ball, and Pops gave us a one-evening job. We're to infiltrate." 

"Infiltrate? As what, circus freaks?" 

"Trowa might be happier then," Hilde said, laughing. "I'm Princess Kaguya, Trowa's Puss-in-Boots, you'll be the Highwayman, and Duo's Robin Hood." 

Heero raised his eyebrows, and thought hard about that. Vaguely he registered Trowa was speaking in the background, but the majority of his mind was preoccupied with remembering what few fairy tales he could. Robin Hood was the one in green, that small voice chattered, and something about drunken monks. 

"The syndicate wants a warning shot fired off at the L4 organizations," the taller man was saying as he sorted through the costumes. "We're to leave a series of notes around the party location, just to let them know we could have done more, had we chosen to. Hilde's got the box of them, ten for each of us. The notes include dummy listening devices." 

"Robin Hood," Heero finally stammered. "He was the one who lived in the woods?" 

"Steal from the rich, give to the poor," Trowa said. 

"And he wore tights," Hilde added from where she knelt by one of the bags. Pulling out a pair of green leggings, she waved them in the air over her head, chuckling mischievously. 

"Duo's going to kill you," Heero said in a flat voice. 

"That's what I said," Trowa replied. 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, own a ship's lantern! It has a blue light on one side, a red light on the other side, and a wiring harness that dates from the second world war. And if you sued me, and you demanded this lantern, you'd be delighted to discover that when you plug it in, you get fireworks, too! All sorts of sparkliness coming from inside the light, where the bulb wiring smacks against the metal interior...fun, fun. Five seconds on high, fries lawyers right through. 

Lainwyn: I was going to have Mike working at a comic bookstore, or even a bookstore, but decided that just wasn't outstanding enough. The kid needs something to really drive home how badly it hit him when Duo fried his hardboard. So, shoe store. The only thing worse I could think of was being the janitor at a bowling alley, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. 

Sawdust monster: You ask, you get. Moving a little slower now that the story's more complex (and now that I have a second pushy story at the same time I've still not finished up the one I was working on before I even started Drums)...but progress, hopefully. 

Aryl: Groan. Don't remind me how long it took to get to The Kiss – I'm amazed we even got anything at all, the way Duo's been cranky for the past twenty-six of those chapters! But we're moving towards conclusion, bit by bit. Teaser: next chapter has a few shockers. Well, hopefully they'll be shockers. 

GoldenRat: This is true. I think Heero's still capable with computers, but this new and improved version seems to prefer letting Duo stand in the spotlight on a number of things: piloting and hacking, for starters. And Heero's done plenty until now that's shown he's not lost his touch. I had hoped that scene would more demonstrate the extreme lengths of geeking that Duo was achieving. 

Mashiro Karasu: You're not the first to ask when I'll have the hackers show up in person. (I'm starting to feel like I'm channeling Galaxy Quest or something.) All I can say is that I don't know. The underlying plot is rather dangerous in its scope, and I'm not certain Heero (or even Duo) would be that pleased to have folks who are essentially civilians making an appearance until after the dust has settled. I'm just not sure whether I'll put that post-dust part in the story. 

AlyRain: Well, you're going to have to wait until the next chapter to find out what the hackers have uncovered, but there's a few other complications, too. Always is, in this story. But in the meantime we can all pass a few happy days thinking of Duo in tights. And then we can have a few moments of silence for Hilde, throttled at such a young age for making Duo wear tights. Green tights. 

Kiya Sama: Sorry for getting all tech-geek on you, there. Didn't mean to confuse ya. It just seemed like the contrast was needed, between Heero's practical attitude and Duo's hell-bent-for-leather all-out style. This past chapter jumps the action forward over two weeks, and it was tougher to write. I kept wanting to slow down and give people a chance to see Heero at work, or more touchy-feely late-night stuff...but decided the real purpose of this chapter was to get the story moving its ass along closer to deadline. So...moved we is. 

CinC: "oh, Duo's not the one who find the hackers reaction to him funny" – hunh? I thought he did. I thought Duo got the biggest kick out of the hackers' reactions, especially Mike's. Poor little Hand. I had no idea he was going to be abused like this when I first had Heero send the kid after the bank account, or I would've put Rat in the line of fire instead. Mike's kind of growing on me – he's turning into what Duo would have been, had Duo not been a street rat and terrorist – just an overly bright kid with a lot of brain cells to kill. 

Asuka Kureru: Now that you mention it, you're right. Hilde has blue eyes. And here I've tried so hard to keep in continuity...ow. *sigh* Anyway...Enny and Jeet will show up in the next few chapters, in time for the final act. Still not sure how it'll go down, but hopefully it won't disappoint too many people. Duo and Heero angst: yes, that was harder to write than I expected, and more so since I related more to Heero than I expected I would. So I let Duo's character take the lead and worked to stay in Heero's shoes and try to figure it out. If it upset you, I guess that means it all worked. Not that I like upsetting folks, but I hope you know what I mean. ;-) 

Abcd: Hey, those disclaimers get a lot of consideration from me. I think very carefully each chapter about them. Well, that's not entirely true. Actually I look around at my living room and think about what bizarre things I've stumbled across in my house recently. And there you go. 

And, as always, many thanks, fortune cookies, and used matchbooks to the folks who wrote me offline to suggest, critique, cheer, and generally make fun of the fact that I'm taking forever with this damn story: Morgan, Moffit, Koyote, and Rosemary. 

Thanks, all! ;-) 


	30. not every saint is a fool

**01 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

I gave you the benefit of the doubt, it's true  
But keep in mind, my darling,  
Not every saint is a fool  
― Poe 

Heero came home from work to find Duo and Trowa playing a new game on the laptop while Hilde guarded the costumes. After being regaled with Duo's vociferous grievances, Heero figured out that Hilde and Trowa had brought the costumes with them but had refused to tell Duo what he'd be wearing, nor had they given any hints. It was soon clear to Heero that Hilde was stalling until the costume shops were closed. Heero had to admire the girl's gumption, but he rolled his eyes at the likelihood of Duo going along with the plan if the longhaired pilot set his mind to an alternative. 

Duo's tirade was interrupted by Trowa. The taller pilot was sitting by the laptop, absently clicking through web pages as he waited for Duo to fall silent. "I've been contacted by Quatre." 

Hilde made a choking sound. "You waited until now to mention this?" 

"I was waiting until all four of us were together." The Heavyarms pilot shrugged. 

Heero grimaced, got himself a beer, and seated himself on a pillow across from Trowa. A minute later, Duo and Hilde joined them in the small circle, mixed drinks on the floor between them. 

"It was one of the Maganacs," Trowa explained, his green eyes lowered on the floor. "Ran into me – literally – on the street. When I got back to the ship, found a letter in my pocket. Read it, and destroyed it, per the instructions." 

"When was this?" Heero rubbed at his forehead. Duo sent the letter to Quatre on December twenty-first. 

"Two days ago." 

Seven days after Quatre received word from Duo, Heero thought. Enough time to come up with a response, send a Maganac to L2, and then track down Trowa. It still seems like a roundabout way to reply, the small voice observed. 

Duo fidgeted, then sighed heavily. "Alright, spill already." 

"Quatre's got a team of six hackers working on the email records in the President's and Council's servers. They're parsing the information, and he wants us to focus our hackers on the L2 syndicate-owned servers." Trowa paused, and wrinkled his brow at Duo. "Since when did we get hackers?" 

"Since we let oh-one join the party," Duo replied. 

Heero shrugged. 

"I should have known," Trowa replied, unruffled, although one eyebrow was raised for a split second. "Quatre also suggests that we shoot for hardcopies of the L2 syndicate's record books." 

"Record books?" Hilde furrowed her brows. "Accounting?" 

"Follow the money," Duo said, and chuckled. "We're trying to connect the syndicates and the President, right?" He looked around as his teammates nodded. "The President gets money from a bunch of places. I'd say Quatre is telling us to look at where the syndicate's money is going, and he'll look at where the President is getting money. Then all he has to do is connect the two." 

Trowa shook his head. "A criminal in an L1 prison can donate money to the President's funds, and it doesn't make the President liable for the criminal's actions." 

"Connecting the two is easier said than done," Heero added. "Syndicates operate under a cover of respectable companies. There's only so much profit they can reasonably hide, so donating to a non-profit is an old trick." 

"Illicit funds, donated publicly, means they can get a tax write-off on the money they didn't pay income tax on in the first place," Trowa explained in an undertone to Hilde, who nodded absently. 

"But they wouldn't need to hide that much," Hilde pointed out. "Running guns makes money, but it also costs money to produce the guns, purchase the raw materials, pay the people who make them, and bribe local officials to look the other way." 

"That cuts into the profit," Heero agreed. "But before the war, we could buy a Glock .45 for eight hundred credits. Ignoring the artificial inflation forced by most governments then, the black market price now is triple that." 

"Quadruple," Duo said. 

"But the cost, comparatively, can't have changed," Hilde replied. "They're hardly using restricted material like Gundamian." 

"True." Duo gave her a smile. "There's no law against making things with metal." 

"If there were, you'd be in jail from half your hobbies." Trowa's voice was bland, but his eyebrow twitched. 

"So Quatre wants us to find the syndicate's books," Hilde said. When the three men nodded, she chewed on her lower lip for several seconds, pondering. "How does this tell us who...killed Joe?" 

"It doesn't," Trowa admitted. "But I don't think that's ever been Quatre's objective." 

Duo shook his head and gave Hilde a rueful smile. "It's not. I'm not sure what his purpose is for getting involved, but that wasn't it." 

"Quatre must have found something from his end," Heero surmised. "Most of the messages on the track bots were relatively innocuous." Noticing Hilde's and Trowa's confused looks, Heero took a moment to explain the situation with the hackers, and the discoveries the kids had made in the past three months. "September, a track bot was first uploaded with the message of 'starting here.' A previous message referred to what we think is a bank account, and another referred to something about not interfering." 

"If the bot messages were for the Maganacs, it could be saying they shouldn't interfere with our mission," Duo pointed out. "Hold on. The message was 'no interference', wasn't it?" 

Heero nodded. "You're right. So it could also mean Quatre was telling the Maganacs that the coast is clear, referring to something we don't know about." 

"There's a lot we don't know about," Trowa grumbled. 

"That was September. So Quatre had several months to sit around before finding something to get him involved," Duo said. "I was sending him mission reports―" 

"What?" Trowa's green eyes flashed. "I thought you sent just that one, and we never heard from him." 

"Uh..." Duo winced. "I wasn't sure if he'd gotten it...so I started sending them regularly. I'd promised to keep him informed, anyway." 

"When did you do that?" The mercenary's eyes were suspicious. 

"Just before we left Earth, back in May. The last time I talked to Quatre." Duo grinned, but his eyes glittered coldly. "More precisely, the last time I yelled at him. I suggested it as a peace offering. I didn't know if he ever got the messages, but Heero and I think the Maganacs have been around, and now one of them gave you a letter..." Duo trailed off, his eyes averted from Trowa's intent gaze. 

"We're forgetting the most important detail," Hilde announced, sitting up straight. "Your former co-worker, the delightful Mr. Winner, is a consummate politician. If the Maganacs were around before he supposedly 'got involved,' then I'd say there's two things going on. One, he sent his minions to follow us around to keep an eye on us." 

"And to intervene when they needed to," Heero added, remembering being hit on the head. He quickly explained his theory of how he'd made it back to the ship after almost interfering on his first job with the team. 

"And you said the Maganacs were getting messages before the one that said Quatre was getting involved," Hilde said. "Which means something triggered Quatre's interest...something that would make a politician, a businessman, raise his eyebrows. That's the second thing, maybe even a separate thing from the Maganacs following us." 

"Winner has a finger in every pie," Trowa muttered. "Heero, how did you meet up with Quatre?" 

Heero shifted uncomfortably on his pillow. "My...agent called him, ostensibly to get Quatre's permission to use a picture he'd taken." 

"A picture?" Hilde stuck her finger in her drink and swirled it around, trying to appear nonchalant. 

"Bernie ― my agent ― said the publishers wanted a picture of me for the back flap of my book." Heero watched Hilde lick her finger, studiously ignoring Duo's suddenly inquisitive expression. "It was an old picture, from just after the war. We ended up not using it." 

Hilde shook her head and flashed Heero one of those brilliant Cheshire smiles she'd learned from Duo. "Who told you that your agent called Quatre?" 

Heero paused, his eyes narrowing. "Quatre did." 

"And did your agent ever confirm this?" 

"Not in so many words," Heero answered slowly. "As a matter of fact, Bernie went out of his way to get me to Quatre's house while I was in Paris. Tricked me, made me think I was meeting with the publishers." 

Hilde's tone was mildly sarcastic. "I think, gentlemen, we have a case of your strategist doing what he does best." The woman put her hand up, palm towards the ground as though holding something, and tilted her hand back and forth. It took Heero a second to realize what she was miming. 

"Playing with puppets," Heero said, and snorted. 

"Give that man a gold star," Hilde said, touching her finger to her nose before pointing at him. "I'd propose that not only did Quatre decide to send in reinforcements, he made a point of doing it in such a way that it didn't look like he had anything to do with the actions." 

"Even Wufei was the one to take over my apartment," Heero murmured. He sighed, seeing their blank looks, and explained about Wufei's actions on L1, the transfer from Quatre's account, and Bernie's comments. 

"Gotta give him this much," Duo said, shaking his head slowly. "Quatre's smooth." Trowa made a face at Duo's words. Deathscythe's pilot caught the look, and smiled, a sweet expression without the usual teasing edge. "Tro...think about it. If Quatre went through all that effort, he did it for a reason. We just...don't know what it is." 

"Yes, we do," Heero said, his head coming up suddenly, a crooked grin spreading across his face. "Quatre's also undercover. Something's going on, at his end that makes him need to appear unconnected to us. That's the only possible explanation." 

"He and Relena move in high circles," Duo added, his voice neutral, "and Wufei's with the Preventers." 

"Part-time," Heero replied. "Which means Quatre has someone on the inside at Preventers, and us on the inside with the syndicate." 

"And Relena, if she's involved, would be on the inside at the Council," Duo added. The room was silent for several minutes as the four friends contemplated the extent of the machinations Quatre was possibly arranging. 

"Right," Hilde replied, then blinked several times as though just waking up. There was a pause, and the petite brunette suddenly shot up, coming to her feet in a flash. "Not right! Not right at all," she said, her voice going from a frustrated cry to an outright shout. Heero was startled to see her stomp her foot as she repeated her cry, even louder. "Not right in the _least_." 

"Hilde," Duo said, coming to his knees as he prepared to stand. His hands were up, as though warding off a strike. 

"What the fuck are we doing?" The girl's eyes were wide, and her fists were clenched tightly by her side. "We're just letting Quatre mess with whatever's going on? So he can play around in politics and send strange men to watch what we're doing without telling us? He's playing at this! He's playing with my mission! I want to find out who killed my fiancé, and he's just playing!" 

"I know what you mean," Duo said, his voice soothing. Slowly he moved a leg, preparing to stand, but he froze when Hilde backed away suddenly. 

"Oh, please," she retorted. "You three trust him, because you were all...oh, Quatre, you're the strategist..." Her voice turned mocking, strident. "But he doesn't give a damn about Joe. If he did, he wouldn't be screwing around and telling us to find accounting...What the fuck is accounting going to do to help us who killed Joe? What's the point of that?" 

Duo frowned, gritting his teeth as he exhaled slowly. "Quatre's got his own purpose. We will find out who killed Joe, I promise. Hilde, Quatre knows what he's doing." 

"How do you know that? You didn't even know about those tracker things until Heero told you!" 

Heero flinched, his eyes downcast. Trowa tensed, his eyes darting between the angry girl and the longhaired man. Duo's eyes were securely on Hilde, his attention focused on figuring out how to reassure her. 

"I just want to know why," she said, and her voice cracked on the last word, a plaintive cry. 

Slowly Trowa uncurled his legs and stood up. The Heavyarms pilot hesitated a moment, then opened his arms to the shorter girl. With a sob, she threw herself into his arms. He hugged her closely, resting his chin on the top of her head as he rubbed one hand up and down her back while Duo and Heero watched helplessly. 

"Hush, hush," he whispered. "Quatre...has a bigger goal than our original mission. I think...I think he's trying to take down not just Joe's murderer, but also the President. Maybe even the syndicate, too." 

Heero's eyebrows shot up. He'd gathered the connection between the syndicate and the President was paramount, but the emphasis on the syndicate's accounting records had made him conclude Quatre's focus had shifted to the syndicate alone. A thought occurred to him, and he leaned over, pulling the laptop towards him. Logging on, he ignored Hilde's frustrated whimpers, Trowa's reassurances, and Duo's tense silence. 

After a minute or two, Hilde had calmed down, and Trowa pulled her down to sit between Duo and himself. Bolstered by her two good friends, Hilde watched Heero with weary eyes. The Wing Zero pilot sat back on his heels, surprised Duo didn't make a comment about the laptop. Flicking his eyes to Duo's dark blue stare, Heero ran a hand through his hair and began explaining. 

"This is just a hunch, but...just preliminary research gives some interesting information," Heero said, his tone even. "The Preventers' annual budget is funded only in part by the Interstellar Council. The remainder of their financial needs can be met through donations, most of which are diverted by the President through his discretionary fund. This means that the Preventers are dependent on the current President's whim," Heero stated calmly. 

"Who funds the President's discretionary fund?" Trowa prompted. 

"A variety of organizations. Some of them are political action committees, others are special interest...the biggest contributor is an activist non-profit organization. As they have a specific purpose, their area of impact is supposed to be limited." 

"What's the organization?" Duo canted his head at the laptop screen. 

"Interstellar Gun Control Organization," Heero replied. 

"Gun control means being able to hit the target," Duo muttered. 

Heero raised an eyebrow and continued speaking. "The IGCO is one branch of the Interstellar Peace Resolution Alliance, the IPRA." He hit the laptop's keypad a few times and sat back on his heels with sigh. "Guess who's the founder of the IPRA, and in turn, the IGCO." 

"The Winner Corporation," Trowa said quietly. 

Heero nodded. "Which means, if the syndicates are funneling money to the President through the IGCO, bad publicity will probably reflect onto the founding organization." 

"But not necessarily." Duo studied his fingernails. 

"Quatre thinks in terms of probabilities, and how to narrow them down to the only future he wants to have happen," Heero said. "He learned that from the Zero system." He stared at the longhaired pilot, and was glad no one said what all three were probably thinking: Quatre learned many things from Zero, and none of them wanted to be facing down any of those things. 

"So what does this mean?" Hilde shifted nervously, and sighed as Duo slipped an arm around her shoulders. On her other side, Trowa squeezed her hand tightly, for a second, before slipping out of her grasp to lean forward, studying the laptop screen. 

"I would bet it's something to do with IGCO or IPRA that made Quatre decide our mission deserves his support," the dark-haired man said. Heero took a long swig from his beer and swirled the bottle a few times, studying the amber liquid. 

"The Preventers," Hilde said suddenly. Her large eyes were fixed on the laptop, but slowly she raised them to meet Heero's gaze square on. "You said the money for the Preventers comes through the President, from his discretionary fund. The biggest contributor to the fund is the IPRA, of which a big section is an anti-gun organization. Am I right so far?" 

"Hn." Heero scratched his nose, his mouth quirking at the edges. Wonder where she's going with this, the small voice said, laughing softly. 

"Which means that when the President told Une to cut back for budgetary reasons, it wasn't because of the real budget but because he could take the money away if he chose. Joe's mission was to find out whether guns are being made and sold illegally, which Joe said was an important undercover mission because it fits with the current political priorities." 

"Right." Duo was frowning, watching his best friend's face as she thought her way through the situation, out loud. 

"But if the syndicate is donating money to IPRA―" 

"Which we don't know for sure," Trowa interjected. Hilde acknowledged the comment with a curt nod and continued speaking. 

"Okay, big if, but it makes sense to me. If you want to keep the competition down, you donate to the political movements that would make sure you can retain your monopoly. The syndicate supports the anti-gun movement, and uses its big bucks to pressure the President into shutting down any missions that would expose its gun smuggling operations." 

"That's pretty straightforward," Trowa said, his eyebrows raised. His green eyes darted between Duo and Heero, and a smile tugged at his lips. 

"Straightforward enough I feel like an idiot for not thinking of it sooner," Duo grumbled. Hilde nudged him and he sighed. "I do. We've been so fixated on getting up the ranks to where Joe was, that I just hadn't thought about the big picture." 

"That's what Quatre's for," Heero replied. "That's always been what he does best." 

"So the syndicate ordered Joe's death," Hilde said. "We're still no closer to finding out who specifically made the command." 

There was another long silence, and Heero finished off the last of his beer. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "I think Quatre's probably aiming for the President as the guilty party." 

"How do you figure that?" Duo tilted his head at Heero, and the heavy braid slid across his shoulder to land in his lap. Without even looking, Duo automatically flipped it over his shoulder again. 

"If the President was briefed as to the mission parameters, and gave Une the ultimatum of shutting Joe's mission down...then President Haune had to know he was signing a death warrant." Heero held up his hand as Hilde opened her mouth. When she closed it, he continued. "The President could have explained the situation to Une, and worked with her to continue Joe's mission or to discontinue it in the interest of keeping an agent alive." 

"He didn't," Duo said. "So either he's really stupid, and didn't think she'd continue anyway...Or he wanted Une to continue the mission despite an agent's death, but had to appear ignorant for some reason." 

"Which could mean the President is actually on our side," Hilde concluded. "I wonder if Quatre's thought about that." 

Duo sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I don't know, and I can't even begin to comprehend the kinds of things Quatre must think about before breakfast, let alone the rest of the day. Let's just keep our eyes open for any books labeled 'secret accounting records' and otherwise keep doing what we've been doing. Agreed?" 

His indigo eyes swept the group, noting each one's nod. Duo smiled as he leaned back, his mood immediately light-hearted with a cheerful smile to match as he spoke. "And tonight, we'll party like nobody's business, while happily bestowing tokens of paranoia on the L4 syndicate." 

"It's a plan," Heero said, his grin smaller than Duo's but no less meaningful. 

"One other thing." Duo stood up, stretching to work out the kinks. "It's almost six o'clock, and I'm starving. Dinnertime." 

"Great!" Hilde said, beaming up at her friend. "What're you making?" 

"Nothing for you," Duo taunted, throwing a sharp look in the direction of the costumes. "Unless..." 

Hilde made a face at Duo and stood up, heading for the costume bags. "I'm Princess Kayuga, Heero is the Highwayman, Trowa is Puss-in-Boots, and you're Robin Hood." 

Duo was quiet, but his eyebrows slowly went up. Hilde giggled and reached behind her to pull out the costume for the longhaired young man. 

She laid out the dark green hood that would go over his head, covering his braid. There was a dark green tunic that laced at the neck. It looked long enough to reach to Duo's mid-thigh, and a brown belt that would sling loosely around his hips. There was a white shirt for under the tunic, a pair of low-cut brown boots, and a quiver of arrows. Lastly, Hilde pulled out the dark green leggings. 

To Heero's complete astonishment, Duo regarded the Robin Hood costume for several long, silent, moments. Much of the time his gaze was clearly focused on the leggings laying next to the boots. Then the young man had simply nodded to himself and turned to his roommate with a cheeky grin. 

"It's just a longer version of those stupid spandex, isn't it," he said. 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, own volumes 1 and 4 of Naruto...in Chinese! Woah, doggies. Of course, now I'm searching for a source for Naruto volumes 2 and 3 in Chinese, because they're not out yet in English, and I'd be completely lost skipping those two volumes. So, if you sue me, you can have volume 4, but you have to give it back once I find a place to get volume 2 and 3. Oh, and by the way, there is a character that means "hah!" and is pronounced "ha" – but I guessed that from context. Go me. 

And a shout-out: to everyone who went bonkers at the idea of Duo-in-tights. You know who you are, and your responses all cracked me up! 

LadyJessy: Yup, loss of erection happens. See the commentaries for what you started, though. ;-) 

SilverCaladan: The orgasm-talk amused me, too! I really don't know where this stuff comes from, though – how did I end up writing a commentary about that, anyway? I hadn't actually given thought to whether Duo and Heero are using fake names while at work, because I hadn't set any scenes at work until that last chapter. So it was purely off-the-cuff that I had Heero say "Day" instead of "Duo." 

Sawdust monster: Ta-dah, here's more! I can see your brain melting as I write this...hehehe. 

Dyna: Would you settle for an information-packed chapter as a way to end a Hurricane-filled week? ;-) 

Lainwyn: Now you know...not all is right with the world, but if you can figure your way out through the chapter...sheesh. It was a tough one, because there's so much, but I don't want the group figuring things out spontaneously, but I don't want them stupidly taking twice as long to get from point A to D. You're right about Heero not relying on Duo for everything. Not sure I'd want to, either – Duo's got a funky sense of humor, after all. 

Chibi Hentai-chan: Good theory, but...nope. No Duo STDs. Just trust me, when you find out, it'll make sense. And we might find out in the next chapter or two – I hope. The mission discussion wasn't supposed to be so long, but the characters kept talking, so I kept writing... 

Mashiro Karasu: I'd consider the hackers civilians – it's not like they'd know what to do if guys with guns came after them. 

GoldenRat: Hacking being a sign of 'having no life' hadn't occurred to me, but I suppose Duo has been rather obsessive with this mission. Curious flip between Heero-and-the-laptop from days of yore, and Duo now. But Heero's catching up! 

Natea: I don't even know where to start...wow! Thanks! Ah, I love getting long happy reviews from people threatening to kill me because they couldn't put the story down. It just makes me all happy and fuzzy inside. Hilde has turned out to be a stronger and more important character than I'd thought when I started the story. Hopefully you'll still be liking the story, once you're done with this chapter...Yipes. A lot of information, I know! 

AlyRain: Bwahahah...yup, tights! What, you don't think Duo would find it funny, too? ;-) 

Aryl: Oh, there's angst coming. Never fear...I won't let you down. *cackle* But the holding hands is my concession to the fact that soldiers rarely sleep comfortably touching another person unless there's a lot of trust...and I'm not sure the two are at that point yet. 

CinC: See my response to Aryl, and you're right that Duo's got some trust issues. Heero's also been through four or five years of therapy, trying to make himself a better person. I think Duo's trying; I think we just don't see his struggle. Heero's own struggle gets in the way. 

Kiya Sama: Yes! Duo...NOT in leather! And no glitter, either. He's got long hair, but he's still a boy. Bwahah. N-E-way...you're the only person to mention the gift-giving scene, which I thought was pivotal in showing how the two have learned to pay attention to each other, even if they still don't communicate very well. At least they're watching and listening. As for Quatre...how do you feel now about him? 

And, as usual, additional thanks and appreciation to those folks writing me off-line: Jadeduo, another member of the Duo-In-Tights fan club; Littleduckie, who notices the little gestures like cleaning ears; Moffit, who figured out Duo's purpose behind the picture; DeeEzBee, still recovering from Duo's confusing behavior; and CleverYoungThief, who's probably planning a picture as I write this. (Yay!) 


	31. no obligations now

This is the R-rated version of the chapter, dutifully censored for fanfiction.net's requirements. To read the full version, with lemon, go to www . sweetlysour . net / sol / dr-31.htm ...remember to take out the spaces in the URL. FYI, if you're wondering about the differences: there are changes in section four for wording and explicitness. Also, the second half of that section was truncated completely. The concluding section remains the same.

**NOTE:** In the Jan/Feb 2004 Revision, I did **NOT** revise the R-rated version. 

* * *

And I may be obliged to defend   
every love, every ending,  
or maybe there's no obligations now.  
--- Paul Simon

It was always a bit of a shock, just how quickly Duo and Hilde could get ready, Heero thought as he watched L4 roll past the taxi window. Girls were supposed to take forever getting ready, but Hilde had been showered and dressed in twenty minutes. Duo hadn't washed his hair, which cut down on some of his time. Trowa took the longest, unable to get his sash properly tied until Hilde jerked it out of his hands and did it for him. 

Heero stared down at the black mask and tri-corner hat resting on his lap. Next to him, the taller pilot tucked a stray hair behind his ear, adjusted the cat ears, and fiddled with the cat-mask Hilde had purchased. 

"What time is it," the photographer asked, a queasy feeling in his stomach. 

"Ten to nine," Trowa replied. "Day and Hel should be there by now." He flashed the invitations before slipping them into the sash around his waist, and started to absently stroke the long cat tail attached to the back of his black pants. "You should put the mask on now, before we get there. Turn around, I'll tie it."

Heero nodded and, his eyes half-closed as he placed the mask against his face and waited for Trowa to tie it. The lace at his neck reminded him of that stupid quasi-revolutionary clothing he'd had to wear for formal occasions in Sanq. Despite that, he was still glad he'd not given into Duo's private request to trade costumes. Some hidden romantic part of his mind rather liked the graceful, thigh-length coat, with its burgundy brocade tailored tight to his chest and waist, that flared out to swirl around him as he moved. 

The cab pulled up to the Sector 1 hotel, and the doorman was there immediately, opening the door with a formal bow. Heero nodded in reply as he climbed out of the taxi. He adjusted the lace showing under the coat's cuffs and waited while Trowa showed the invitations. A minute later they were following other costumed revelers, heading into the grand ballroom.

"I see them," Trowa said in an undertone, snagging a champagne glass off a passing waiter. "Over in the middle."

Heero followed Trowa's gaze, and caught sight of Hilde laughing as Duo swung her around, putting the girl through the paces of a waltz. Her kimono wasn't suited to the twirling moves, and her wooden shoes clattered fearfully on the dance floor, but she was clearly enjoying herself nonetheless. The photographer noticed a number of other men also enjoying the way Hilde's tightly wrapped obi and slim blue dress outlined her slender figure. 

There was movement nearby, and Heero glanced over to see Trowa slipping off through the crowd, the cat-tail swaying behind him as he moved. Already planting the notes, the photographer's inner voice observed, and the dark-haired man adjusted his tricorn hat as he studied the people around him. A woman walked past, her arm linked with a man's, and when she tossed her eyes towards Heero his heart nearly stopped, uncertain. When he heard her laugh, however, he knew instantly, and a quick smile darted across his lips.

Relena.

She was dressed in a brilliant sky-blue sari with a choli bodice of the same fabric, trimmed in gold embroidery, the hem barely obscuring the slippers on her feet. One end of the sari was caught up across her bare arms and over her head. A matching veil was draped across her face, revealing her face from the eyes up. There were a smatter of gold coins across her forehead. 

Heero found himself drifting in that direction, and was startled when her companion bowed, saying something Heero couldn't catch before walking off. Waiting a heartbeat's pause, the photographer stepped forward and asked her to dance.

"Thought you'd never realize it was us," she said in a quiet undertone. Then she nodded, smiling, uttering her next words at a normal speaking tone. "I'd love to dance."

Sweeping her into his arms, Heero swung her into the waltzing crowd. It was several minutes before he relaxed, registering Duo's and Hilde's locations with separate partners. Admit it, the small voice teased him. You're nervous because you haven't danced with her since you were fifteen.

"Your dancing has improved," Relena said softly. Her blue eyes were crinkled; she was smiling under the veil. "But then, it might be helping that this time you're not thinking about killing me."

"Perhaps." Heero's blue eyes swept the crowd again as he guided Relena across the dance floor. "Make me dance too long, and I might change my mind."

The young woman laughed, a low sound, and Heero let his lips quirk up at the edges. She'd always entranced him, and the way her close-fitting top revealed her flat belly and slim hips wasn't helping. Heero felt off-center, and took a deep breath.

"Are you here on official business?" The dark-haired man glanced around the crowd. "Or is this pleasure?"

"Neither," she replied, her voice serious. "Can you see Quatre? He should have found Hilde by now."

"He's here?"

"Yes, you idiot," she chided. "That was him when you walked up."

"What was he dressed as? Are you supposed to be a couple?" Heero racked his brains for a fairy tale that fit. Quatre's upper body had been bare under a short embroidered green vest, with baggy green pants slung low on the blond's hips.

Relena snorted. Heero raised an eyebrow, then realized she couldn't see it under the mask. 

"You must have missed that semester," she told him. "Quatre's Aladdin. I'm Sita." Her tone flirtatious, she regaled Heero with the story of Sita and Rama. One song changed into the next, and she fell silent, watching Heero carefully. 

"What is it?" His blue eyes met hers, and he canted his head at her. "You stopped talking."

"Waiting for you to relax," she replied smoothly. "When we're too close to eavesdroppers, your muscles go stiff."

"Ah." 

A minute later, she started speaking again, her head dipping as though she were saying something amusing. Heero could only watch. He was fascinated with the glittering gold jewelry against her forehead, and drinking in the sound of her voice.

"We've been getting Duo's reports. You broke those programs Quatre set up, didn't you?" When he nodded, her eyes crinkled in another smile as she spoke. "I win the bet, then. Don't bother asking me about the big picture. I don't know it. My part has focused entirely on keeping my eyes and ears open with Council politics."

"Hn." Heero nodded absently, his thumb rubbing against the palm of her hand as he turned her around and they set off across the dance floor. "Have you ever thought... about how things could be different?" His tone was pensive.

"Sometimes," she admitted. "But are you that unhappy?"

"Unhappy?" Heero shook his head, and managed a crooked smile for her benefit. "I think sometimes I am too happy, these days."

Any response she might've made was interrupted by a tall man dressed as a Mayan warrior, breaking in for a chance to dance with the young woman in the sari costume. Heero bowed formally, and kissed the back of her hand. When he looked up, she winked at him before taking the arm of her new dance partner. 

Recognizing a dismissal when he saw one, the photographer headed into the watching crowd, determined to finish the night's mission before dancing any other rounds.

Eleven standard time, an hour before midnight, an hour until the start of After Colony 203. In one hour, it would twenty-six days until they could actually start the mission that was their entire purpose for even being on L4. Heero sighed and tugged at the lace collar surreptitiously. He wasn't sure if he needed to stay until midnight. He'd managed to deposit his ten envelopes in various places around the hotel's first floor. 

Security was remarkably lax for an event hosted and run by a syndicate-owned property, especially with so many political and financial leaders present. Even given the assumption that some of the other guests were undercover security, Heero found it curious that so few seemed to be as attuned to the audience as he would have been, in their place. 

For the most part, though, he'd simply observed the crowd, and danced with Relena only once more before someone cut in. They hadn't spoken; she seemed oddly reluctant to part with more than the little information she'd already given him. Instead, she amused him with stories of the kitten she'd gotten shortly after he'd seen her on Earth. 

Once or twice he'd sighted Hilde. An hour ago he'd seen her escorted into a side corner, and held back from following her once he'd seen the broad tanned shoulders and gaily embroidered blue vest: Quatre. The photographer scanned the crowd for Duo and Trowa, until he found Trowa bowing over an older woman's hand and leading her onto the dance floor. The long-tipped hood of Duo's green costume made it hard to spot him the crowd, lost among so many glittering hats and masks. Heero wondered where the thief had headed off to. 

Scowling, Heero turned his attention back to the alcove where he'd seen Quatre and Hilde, only to spy the Sandrock pilot escorting the petite brunette towards the bar. A number of heads turned in Quatre's wake, and Heero doubted it was because of the costume. The man simply had an aristocratic way of moving that demanded attention. Hilde was hanging on Quatre's arm, her head tilted back as she smiled up at him, and for a moment Heero squashed a feeling of jealousy.

"All done," a voice whispered behind the photographer. It took a second to filter in, spoken so low beneath the babble of the crowd and the music from the orchestra. Duo was reporting in. 

"Ready when you are," Heero replied, his lips barely moving as he stared off in the opposite direction. "Trowa?"

"He knows," Duo said. 

Heero left a few minutes later, giving only a curt nod to the doorman who hailed a taxi for him. Dropped off two blocks from the apartment, Heero walked the rest of the way, his heart heavy and restless.

Duo arrived twenty minutes later, tossing his hood across the small living room even as he shut and locked the door behind him. The thief's grin glinted in the low light from the laptop sitting on the floor in front of Heero. 

"Did you see the jewelry on some of those women? Would've been easy pickings." Duo didn't pause for a response as he scratched his head roughly. "That hood was driving me insane. And these leggings! Itchy, all night long." 

His voice was muffled as he pulled the green tunic over his head and toed his boots off at the same time. The tunic was quickly followed by the white shirt. Duo stripped the leggings off as well, and Heero was a little surprised that Duo could be standing naked in the living room and not be shivering.

"Aren't you cold?" The photographer winced as his voice cracked. 

He was too busy staring to formulate anything more profound to say. Duo's body was lean, the shoulders broad for his chest, his stomach flat, a slender triangle frame leading down to small hips and long, slender legs. Heero could see the concave dip where the muscles led from waist to thigh, an area of shadow created by the thief's hipbones. Straggles of longer hair, escaping from the braid, hung around Duo's shoulders, glowing chestnut from the streetlight through the window.

"Cold? It's hot on this colony," the thief retorted, throwing his arms over his head and stretching backwards. The motion made his ribs stand out, as his hips tilted forward. "When you've spent a winter on L2, you'll know the meaning of cold." 

The dark-haired man leaned back on his hands, watching warily as Duo grabbed a beer from the fridge, guzzled half, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Setting the drink down on the countertop, Duo strolled into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Heero canted his head at the suddenly empty kitchen, and listened to the sound of running water. Getting up, he took Duo's beer and returned to his seat on the floor. He'd finished it off by the time he heard the bathroom door open and the light click off. 

Heero set down the empty beer and shut the laptop, then uncurled his legs, straightening them in front of him. He'd also changed the first thing through the door, into sweatpants and a t-shirt. His feet were bare. Those shoes hadn't given him blisters, but he'd feared the worst from the way his feet hurt. 

Duo reappeared with a grin, still completely naked, his hands behind his back. The thief paced towards Heero, but didn't stop at the other floor-pillow. Instead, he landed on Heero, straddling the young man's lap. The Deathscythe pilot rocked back and forth with his hips twice, and smiled as Heero grunted softly. 

"Miss me?" The whisper was met with a soft moan, and Duo chuckled quietly. "I saw you dancing. Relena didn't have anything useful to tell me. You get anything from her?"

Heero could only shake his head, unable to speak for drawing in breath between clenched teeth. There were cold fingers digging under the hem of his t-shirt, and Duo chuckled again as he pulled the shirt up and leaned over. A second later there were soft lips around one of Heero's nipples, and the photographer could only groan, arching his back slightly to allow better access.

"Someday I'll teach you how to hold a conversation," Duo murmured, then his lips were trailing a hot, slow passage from one tight nub to the other. Heero's fingers tensed against the carpeted floor as he leaned his head back, his eyes shut tight.

"D-Duo," Heero finally stuttered, his eyes opening long enough to stare at the top of the thief's head. He vaguely registered slim fingers picking at the edge of his sweatpants, but the weight on his hips, and the fire rising in his groin, was drowning everything out. Swallowing hard, he tried again. "Sh-shouldn't we... bedroom..."

He was answered with a quick shake of Duo's head, the thief's long bangs brushing against his chest as Duo pushed his shirt up to his neck, licking and biting up Heero's chest. The thief lifted his head and kissed Heero, pausing only after Heero was breathless from the sudden intrusion of tongue and lips and teeth against his mouth. 

"Why move?" Duo laughed softly and ran his tongue along Heero's jaw. "Everything I want is right here." He emphasized the last word by tilting his hips again, pressing himself against Heero's hips. The photographer could only groan, sinking back against the floor.

Too focused on enjoying the moment and not letting it slip away, Heero belatedly realized his sweatpants had been undone. A second later they were pushed down by nimble fingers, and Heero was exposed. The photographer hissed, his toes curled, and he choked back a shout as Duo shifted off him and in one smooth movement lowered his mouth to Heero's groin.

The dark-haired man could only stare at the ceiling in complete bewilderment, stunned at the suddenness. After that first failed experiment, they'd only kissed since then, but Duo had never sought to go farther. Heero certainly hadn't pushed the question, and at times he had wondered if the other man was evading the issue. 

This hardly counts as avoiding, that small insistent voice observed, and Heero gritted his teeth. He was lost in the sensation of warmth, wetness, pressure and pulling. Duo's hands were pushing his hips down, refusing to allow the instinctive thrusting response. One hand disappeared, and Duo pulled away as a snapping sound echoed once in the nearly-empty room. Heero grunted at the loss of touch, trying to get more. There was a faint whimper, and Heero frowned slightly, wondering, then raised his head to see.

Duo was kneeling, bent over, straddling Heero's spread legs. Heero's pants were down past his hips. Duo's eyes were closed and he was biting his lower lip. Heero could barely make out a thin line between Duo's brows as the long-haired man concentrated, and the photographer sat up a little. 

"Duo?" Heero's voice was barely above a whisper, but his blue eyes were large in the apartment's midnight gloom. "Are you... what's..."

He was interrupted by a sudden grunt from Duo, followed by a soft sigh, then the thief's eyes opened lazily. Duo smiled, a little lopsided, and sat up as he began stroking himself gently. The photographer hissed at the sight, feeling his own body reacting immediately to the seductive sight.

"Nothing's wrong," Duo replied softly. He sat up, then, and his right hand snaked its way up Heero's chest, paused to tease a nipple for a moment, then cupped Heero by the chin. The braid slid across Duo's shoulder and thumped on the floor as Duo crawled forward, his knees on either side of Heero's pelvis, pushing the dark-haired man back down on the floor with his chest as his tongue pushed its way into Heero's mouth.

The photographer could only moan inaudibly, the sound swallowed in Duo's mouth, but his eyes shot open the touch of Duo's other hand. The hand was slick, and wet, caressing him with firm, confident strokes. Before Heero could muster the will to stop kissing and ask, he felt himself being guided to press up between Duo's legs. Startled, the dark-haired man broke off the kiss, his eyes conveying his confusion.

"Shh," Duo murmured against his ear. "Just relax..."

Several long minutes had passed, with only the sound of Duo's panting to fill the silence. Heero let his hands slide down off Duo's thighs, his fingertips prickling at the soft down on the thief's legs. Swallowing hard, he was about to speak when Duo patted him on the chest and got up, pulling himself away from their joining. The dark-haired man could only gasp at the cold air hitting his body as Duo left the room.

Heero's mind was spinning, and he realized his fingers were shaking. Blinking, he started to sit up. Water was running in the bathroom, then it stopped, the door opened, and a thin streak of light cut across the living room floor. A second later Duo had sunk down next to Heero and was gently wiping the photographer's chest and groin with a damp washcloth. The cold made Heero's teeth clench, but he only watched Duo, saying nothing and feeling oddly dissatisfied.

The long-haired man was already dressed in his pajama bottoms, and Heero sighed, watching the slender chest leaning over him. It took a second before he could martial his thoughts to realize what he'd wanted, and it was too late now. He'd wanted Duo to stay still, a little longer. He'd wanted to hold Duo. The simple thought surprised him, compared to all the times he'd fled after sex. In the confusion, he barely noticed that Duo had dropped the washcloth and was tugging Heero's sweatpants back up to his waist.

The carpet was pressed against Heero's back, scratching him, and the t-shirt was bunched under his shoulder blades. He put up a hand to feel Duo's bare back, and ran his fingers down to Duo's waist.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Duo said softly, and leaned over to kiss Heero quickly on the nose. "Ready for bed. You?"

Heero grunted, a little disappointed at how quickly and easily Duo moved away from him. The photographer sat up, taking the offered hand and coming to his feet. At the last minute he grabbed the top of his pants, which weren't tied. There was a giggle from the other young man.

"Forgot that part," Duo teased quietly, and led Heero by the hand into the bedroom. Laying down, he pulled the blanket up over both of them and flipped on his back. There was a rustle as he got comfortable, and his hand immediately stretched towards Heero even as his breathing deepened into the soft purring sound of his snores.

Heero rolled onto his side and stared at the other man's profile as he slipped his hand into Duo's. There was a soft smile playing across Duo's lips. Even in sleep, the thief's hand caught his, tightening a little. Heero sighed and let his head fall onto the pillow as he thought about what had happened. 

He'd had sex with Duo. 

That's not entirely accurate, the small voice remarked, and Heero had to agree. He'd felt detached, separate, somehow, and now he felt relaxed, but empty. He hadn't had sex, really. Duo had had sex with him. He'd not fucked Duo; he'd been fucked. Good and hard, and pleasantly so, he mused, but it was still a one-sided event. 

And somehow, that made it far less satisfying than any of his fantasies. 

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamiam. I do, however, own a partially cleaned wooden deck, and an empty bottle of advil from the headache I'm still suffering from those stupid fumes. Please, sue me, and you can HAVE the bleedin' headache!

**Lainwyn**: I think the problem with this story is that every character has multiple motivations. Of all of them, Heero's may actually be the simplest: he just wanted his friends back. Trowa's somewhere between resenting Quatre, wanting to do something more than be a leftover soldier, and wanting to help Duo. Quatre wants to protect his own interests but seems also to support Hilde's and Duo's goals. Maybe Hilde has an equally simple motivation – revenge for Joe – but I think that's only on the surface of it. While I hope that makes for good reading, it makes for hard writing. *sigh*

**Maldorer** – I think I'll be rereading it too... only I'll probably be fussing, 'damn it, I missed that thread, dropped that plot point, misremembered this detail'... ah, the evils of revision. ;-)

**Aryl**: I aim to be evil. I see by your response and others that I have succeeded. My work here is done! Bwahahaha.

**KatsyKat**: Sometimes I find Trowa is the coolest of all of them to write, because he's so delightfully deadpan. Thing is, people seem to miss his sense of humor almost as much as they miss Heero's – both have very dry wit. But it is fun, and I'm glad someone thought Trowa's response was funny. I did, when I was writing it – but I'm not really the best judge. I'm a little biased towards being a harsh critic.

**Sawdust** **monster**: If you could figure out what was going on, I'd be failing miserably in my plans. Don't worry, though, the characters are mostly just as confused as you – and it won't let up right away. There's more to come! I hope, at least. ;-)

Thanks to those who write me off-line: **Okaasan**, **Rosemary**, **CleverYoungThief**, **Casey** **Valhalla**, and **Moffit**. Extra thanks this chapter to **Presser**, who helped me with the technical elements of the lemon. And special thanks to **Okaasan**, who pointed out some things I missed and helped me tighten, err, revise the third section so it reads more smoothly. 

I know this set of responses are short, but I really am not having fun with the headache. And now... onto finishing that next chapter of Wolves. Stay tuned, until next time, when Heero kicks someone's ass. I'm not kidding.


	32. alone could win or lose

**03 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

Did you think you didn't have to choose it,  
That I alone could win or lose it?  
In all the places we were hiding love,  
What was it we were thinking of?  
― Peter Gabriel 

Act normal, Heero instructed himself. He got up at five in the morning on New Year's Day, and blindly lived through the day, returning at four to find an empty apartment. At three in the morning Duo returned, slipped into bed, and they held hands until Heero woke up for work. 

The second day, an email from Hilde arrived, and a copy was waiting in the shared laptop's public folder when Heero got home from work. 

It was chatty, as usual. Apparently Hilde had met a very charming businessman dressed as Aladdin, and spent over an hour with him on and off the dance floor. She went on to comment that he worked in economic development and was on the colony for a large project. He'd been coy about the specifics and she couldn't possibly repeat what he had said, because corporate spies were always a possibility. 

Hilde's email went on to mention a funny incident in the women's bathroom, when she met a pretty girl who needed help fixing her veil. The two women had chatted about their dance partners, and the pretty girl had joked that the best dancers were thieves. The Highwayman stole her jewels and left her with a kiss, Robin Hood stole the kiss and gave it to the poor, and Puss-in-Boots stole what was left to give to his Master. 

The email also mentioned that Hilde had danced with the Cat herself. She'd been disappointed to hear he'd found no one to play the part of his hapless young master, the Marquis of Carabas. She concluded with the note that she hoped her brother had enjoyed the event, and she looked forward to seeing him again. 

It was clear what it all really meant. First, either Quatre hadn't told Hilde much, or what little he could say in a public, syndicate-run venue was something she wasn't willing to say, even in a coded email. Second, Relena had enjoyed seeing each of them. And third, Trowa and Quatre didn't speak to each other. 

Figures, Heero thought, and deleted the email. The entire night was truly a fairy tale: glitz and glamour that left nothing in the morning. Subdued, he spent the rest of the evening sorting through his most recent photographs. 

By the next day the rest of the wait staff finally dropped the joking about his relaxed and non-hung over state on the Morning After, as his inner voice called it. Inside, however, he often found himself thrumming in excitement, tempered with a certain strange ache in his chest. Heero wasn't sure what the problem was, but he was pretty certain the familiar ache signaled he'd erred again, somehow. 

Finally, that night, Heero made a decision. On the way to work the next morning, he stopped for coffee and purchased a phone card as well. Later, during his lunch break, he headed to the nearest pay-vid and placed a call. 

* * *

January fifth: twenty-two days until mission start, and ten days since his last day off. When morning arrived, Heero didn't wake up until almost noon. Groggy, he stumbled to the bathroom, showered, and dressed. Duo was still asleep. Heero shook his head, watching the other man turn over in his sleep. Duo had pulled two ten-hour days after New Year's, working the lunch shift in the Café, and Heero figured Duo needed the sleep. Sighing, Heero slipped into his leather jacket, checked his wallet, and quietly let himself out. 

Twenty minutes later he was in the L4 station bay, being accosted by a green-haired girl wearing a orange fake fur coat that fell to her knees. Under it she was wearing blue jeans and a rugby shirt. For once she looked less like a pimp, and more like a young woman just out of college. 

"All right, heartbreaker," Enny said, pulling away long enough to look him up and down. "Which hotel do you recommend?" 

He frowned and shook his head. "There's a good Greek place not far from here." 

"The spanakopita of love," she drawled, and laughed. Hooking her arm through his, she hefted a small backpack and let him lead the way. Once they were on the street, her cheerful demeanor grew more serious as she glanced over at his down-turned face. "You sure? It'd be on the house. I've not been off L2 in six months, and I was getting a little stir-crazy." 

"Hn." 

"I'll take that as a 'I'd love to, but I'm all out of stir-crazy cures'..." Enny tossed her ponytail, and bumped Heero with her hip. When he gave her a crooked grin, she laughed again. 

It wasn't long before they were settled into a small booth at the back of the Greek diner, and had placed their orders. When the drinks arrived, Enny took a sip, sighed dramatically, and then pushed the glass out of the way. 

She put her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her hands. "Talk to me, babe." 

Heero stared at the red-and-white tablecloth. He'd wanted someone to talk to, and he couldn't think of anyone else. It was no good getting in touch with Bernie. He'd decided immediately that he didn't want to involve his agent in the mission, since anyone he called could potentially end up under surveillance. If not by the L2 syndicate, then by the L4 syndicate, once they became aware of his existence. 

That left Hilde, who was obviously out of the question, and Enny. The problem was that now he couldn't find the words. Finally he looked up at the silent girl, noting her raised eyebrows and sympathetic expression. When he still didn't say anything, she smiled a little. 

"I'll start then," she said softly. "You finally got somewhere, didn't you...and now you're trying to figure out if where you are...is really where you want to be." 

"How..." Heero couldn't think of what to say, and the girl chuckled. 

"This is Duo we're talking about, isn't it." 

"Duo..." He gaped, then his eyes shuttered in suspicion. "How do you know his real name?" 

"I was there when he hijacked the Leo, you ninny." Enny took a sip of her drink, clearly enjoying the way Heero's jaw was hanging open. "Close your mouth. I was a battalion trainee with Hilde." 

Heero struggled to find his voice. "You flew a mobile suit?" 

"Nope. Just a peon mechanic." She flashed another grin, and then grew serious. "Duo and I grew up...in the same kind of circumstances. But war is good, if that's where you are. When they'll take anyone, even street kids, it's a chance to be someone. Once the war was over, those of us who survived..." She waved a hand dismissively. "...we weren't really needed anymore. The market was flooded, y'know? Not like I got much of a high school education that year. Too busy learning how to fix Verniers and memorizing resistance levels for Virgo cannons." Enny shrugged, a rueful grin flitting across her face. "So I ended up doing what I'd probably would've done anyway, if there hadn't been a war. I'm just a little more full of useless knowledge than your average pimp, I guess." 

Heero could only nod. 

"I know what you're doing," she said, and her voice dropped to an even softer level. "And because I know you're wondering, I was one of Hilde's contacts when she decided to follow Joe's path. I agreed because if this goes through, I want someone arguing for me when I apply for Preventers." 

"Pre―" He cut himself off, too startled to finish the word. 

"I want to do undercover work. I can shoot straight, fix anything, and get out of any trouble twice as fast as I can get into it." The girl sat back, grinning smugly, and tucked a stray green strand of hair behind her ear. "No one else knows. Jeet's ignorant about you guys, but I want to get him out, too. He's got real skills when it comes to drawing. He could be more than just a whore, if someone gave him a chance." 

A thousand questions were flooding Heero's brain, and none of them had anything to do with his original purpose for inviting Enny to L4 for his day off. Bewildered, he could only stare at her as he tried to process the information. 

Giving up, he shook his head, still in shock. "What do you know about Hilde's goals?" 

"Very little," she admitted. "Only that I vouch for her, put in a good word on her behalf when needed, and keep my ears open. When I hear about a job that would get attention, I make sure the right people know her team's the one that can do it." Enny laughed quietly. "Actually, the past few months I haven't needed to do anything. You guys really are that good." 

Heero made a thoughtful sound, and nodded. Their dinner arrived, and both were silent until the waiter had left. 

"Enough with the conversation skills, heartbreaker." Enny leaned across the table and poked Heero in the shoulder. "Talk to me. What's going on that's got you so bothered you needed to fly one pimp halfway across the sky?" 

"Duo and I..." Heero paused, studied his drink, and began to tell Enny about the past two months. 

He wasn't surprised to discover she really was a good listener, and he began with their arrival on L4. Heero spoke with a clinical detachment, up to and including the events of New Year's Eve. Her eyes opened a little wider while Heero blandly reported the way Duo had technically been the bottom during the act, but that Heero felt like he'd been the one having the act done to him. Behind his indifferent mask, however, he was relieved that Enny didn't laugh, nor did she frown. She merely listened, her face solemn, and didn't speak until he'd fallen silent for several minutes. 

"That's rough." Enny sighed, and poked at her moussaka. "Duo's...got some issues. I don't know where they come from, but I know what I've seen, and what Jeet's said." 

"We all have issues." 

"But everyone's different," she pointed out. "Jeet first came onto Duo back when he and Hilde showed up, after Joe went down. Who wouldn't? That thief is one good-looking guy. Thing was, he wouldn't let Jeet do anything, but Jeet kept at it." 

She noticed Heero's confused look and smiled. Heero was startled to see a light blush across her cheeks. 

"Duo doesn't do too well when someone wants to give him attention," she explained softly. "I know because Jeet got cranky at being paid fifty credits to give a blowjob and getting thrown out the moment he put a hand on Duo's crotch. He said it was like Duo's body wanted it, but his mind couldn't accept it." 

"He still does that." Heero smirked a little, thinking of the way Duo had flinched each time he'd been touched. It had taken a bit before Heero had registered the motion as a definite flinch and not as nerves, but having his hand knocked away during sex had settled the matter. 

"I think it was a month before Jeet made any progress," Enny mentioned in a thoughtful tone. "What you're going to get here is my own take on it, just speaking as someone who does a lot of people-watching," she warned the dark-haired man. "The reality may be different, but I think I've got a good handle on these kinds of things." 

Heero nodded, taking another bite of his kokoretsi while he waited. 

"Disclaimers done." She sighed and leaned forward, resting her cheek on her fist as she watched Heero pick at his food. "Duo's a street kid, to his bones. We don't get noticed unless we're in trouble for something. It's a shock to be noticed in a good way, and you can start to crave that. But it comes at a price. You learn early that nothing comes for free. People always want something from you, and as long as you give it, you get what you want. To be liked, wanted, or needed, or whatever." 

"Duo's always been well-liked." Even if I never said so, Heero thought, and scowled a little, remembering all the times he'd told Duo to shut up and go away during the war. "Except that he talks too much when I'm trying to work," he added reluctantly. 

"That'd just make him try twice as hard, if you were someone he respected," Enny replied. "My guess, at least. Anyway, relationships aren't easy. It means you have to be vulnerable...open...intimate. But if you're doing all the work, and running the show...you can keep the barriers up. I'd bet Duo was just keeping the walls up between you, to protect himself." 

"But we had sex..." Heero protested, his head down. 

"So?" Enny leaned across the table and snagged one of his tomatoes. 

"It was...sex," he explained, his tone uncertain. 

"Listen to me, heartbreaker." The girl pointed at him with her fork, jabbing it for emphasis. "I've had days where I've had sex with six johns before lunch. Sex, on its own, doesn't mean _jack_." 

Heero stopped chewing, stunned. She's right, the small voice told him. I know she's right, he thought, but what do I do about it? 

Enny rolled her eyes. "Maybe he just needs time," she suggested, in a calmer voice. "Or maybe he needs you to tell him to shut up, sit down, and take what you're going to give." She shrugged, her green ponytail bobbing behind her. "But if you do that, you'd damn well better not live up to your nickname." 

"I don't plan on it." 

"Good." The girl grinned, an impish expression. "After lunch...want to go shopping? I need some high-class call girl stuff for this L4 stint, and I can't find a damn thing on L2." 

* * *

Heero was exhausted by dinnertime, but in a much better mood despite that. Enny proved to be an excellent shopping companion, if only because she was willing to say out loud what he found himself thinking about many of the recent fashions. He was especially pleased at her delight when he surprised her by insisting on paying for a dress that she had tried on and decided was out of her price range. He started to doubt the value of the gift, however, when she announced she wanted to wear it that night. 

"What for?" Heero stared at the shopping bags she was carrying. "You're wearing clothes already." 

"Pay attention, heartbreaker," she replied. "We're going out tonight. Your life story of L4 didn't include any nightclubs, and I hear there's a great one over in Sector Three." 

"Which one?" Heero racked his brains for the names of clubs. Some of his coworkers mentioned them in his presence, but he had never paid attention. 

"Glow." Enny dug through the bags and made a face. "I'll need shoes." 

"More shopping?" The dark-haired man sighed deeply and let his shoulders slump. 

"Any excuse in a storm," she retorted, handing him one of the bags to carry. As soon as he took hold, she grabbed his arm with her free hand and started dragging him down the sidewalk as she chattered. "That red dress would look great with the boots I saw in the shop on the corner." 

Heero sighed, and cursed the day he'd just assumed Enny would show up, listen, offer advice, and leave quietly. Should've known better, the small voice whispered, but he found himself smiling despite the inclination to scowl. 

* * *

Enny didn't suggest they head back to his apartment, which relieved Heero. He really didn't want Duo to know he'd invited the girl to L4, for some reason he couldn't put a finger on. Instead they stopped by the station, and he rented a one-night locker for her to stash her new clothes. She changed in the bathroom, returning quickly with her face washed and made up, wearing the new red dress. It was short, flaring around her hips, with long sleeves and a modest scoop neck. It showed off every curve, and Heero found himself smiling again when she turned in place to show it off. 

"See, I told you these boots were perfect," she said, angling one leg like a fashion model. The boots were knee-high, and black, with a low heel. 

"You look elegant," he finally said, and gave her a crooked smile when she blushed. Surprised, but a little pleased, he helped her into the orange fur coat. "This doesn't really go," he added. 

"There's hope for you yet," she observed, but didn't explain. "Dinner, a movie, and then dancing, heartbreaker!" 

"Stop calling me that," he muttered, but didn't protest when she took his arm and led the way to a Chinese restaurant near the club. 

* * *

At midnight standard time, Heero found himself in the club's line with Enny. 

They'd ended up stopping by the apartment anyway, when the girl had declared that he simply couldn't be seen in the clothes he'd worn all day. She'd waited quietly while he changed into black jeans he'd bought to replace his ripped pair, and put on the dark blue Chinese top Hilde had given him. She'd run her fingers through his hair, announced it a total loss, and dragged him back out again in time for them to catch the movie. 

Now, in line, he once again found it easy to be around her, and he understood better how she and Hilde had become such close friends. Both had the same kind of easy charm, although he suspected for Enny it was a cultivated art, as opposed to Hilde's true innocence. The light-hearted chatter let him simply listen and smile at appropriate points, which he found easier to do as the evening wore on. 

At times he even found himself replying, which startled him. Days of speaking only to customers and cooks, and nights alone by himself had let him sink back into his reclusive, silent habits. 

"Check out that dress, on your nine," Enny was whispering. Heero surreptitiously turned his head quickly to see an older woman in a dress slit up to her hipbone and cut in a low V down to her bellybutton. The green-haired girl giggled softly. "I bet she's got double-sided tape under there." 

Heero blinked, trying to visualize using such an item when dressing, and barely registered handing the doorman the fee for both of them. Enny nudged him in the ribs, and he grinned ruefully. 

"My sense of fashion is corrupted beyond reason, now, thanks to you," he told her. 

"Ah," she replied, and sighed again, dramatically, as she threw her arms open in a show of surrender. "My work here is done!" 

"Idiot," he said, affectionately, and then halted, his face falling momentarily. "I mean...Never mind." 

"Something I said?" Her eyes were wide, but she hadn't missed the expression that had flashed across his face. 

"No, just..." Heero shrugged. "Just an old nickname." 

"Enough of the bad things," she told him, and tapped him on the nose. Enny put her coat on the coat check counter, accepted the tab, and handed it to him. "You have pockets. Hold that for me. Now, time to dance." 

"I don't dance." 

"You do now." 

* * *

Two hours passed, and Enny graciously let Heero sit out about half the songs. She made a point of coming by the table to drag him onto the floor at regular intervals, however, and reassured him that he had better grace than he gave himself credit for. In return, he found her a competent and fun partner, even if some of the moves made him wish it were Duo leaning up against him, and not a green-haired girl in a bright red dress. 

He was leaning against a side table, nursing his second shot of whiskey, when she reappeared, looking a little flustered. Taking the beer waiting for her, she downed a large swallow before setting it down with an authoritative clank. 

"How many long-haired men do you know, that wear all black and always put their hair in a braid?" 

Heero frowned, puzzled, then shrugged. "Just one. What about it?" 

"On your two." 

The dark-haired man froze, his glass halfway to his lips. Slowly he turned his head, in time to see Duo, hand in hand with a tall blond man, slipping off the dance floor. They disappeared into the crowd, and Heero could only stare at the last place he'd seen them. 

"Duo." 

"Before you panic, something to tell you." Enny's voice was loud enough to snap Heero back to attention. "I asked around. He's a regular, gets here at one in the morning. Never leaves with anyone, and doesn't always mess around. Sometimes comes with other folks that are known to work at a hotel." 

Heero just stared at her, and then realized his hand was still raised. Scowling, he threw the rest of the shot back and set the glass down on the tabletop. He was about to push away from the table when Enny stepped in front of him. 

"You want him," she hissed, "then you've got a choice." 

"I do?" The dark-haired man glared at her, and was gratified to see her take a half step back. "Looks like to me he's made his choice." 

"Only if you mean by default, because it doesn't seem to me he's made a choice at all," she retorted, pulling herself up to her full height. She was still eye-to-eye with Heero's chin, but he let his glare go down a notch despite that. Enny poked him the chest as she spoke. "Give me the coat check tab, and I'll get myself home. You, however, are going to walk your sweet ass over there and tell Duo what-for." 

"Really," Heero said, his voice flat. 

"Really," she replied hotly. "There's just one thing. Who's the biggest threat to your relationship? Duo, or the competition?" 

"What?" It wasn't the question he was expecting, and he wrinkled his brow, trying to figure out what she was getting at. 

"If you want to make it completely obvious there's a problem between Duo and his boyfriend, you trot right over and punch Duo. But if he's yours, then take on your competition. That's a message the thick-headed braid-wearing thief might get." 

"I wasn't planning on either action." Heero crossed his arms. Enny wasn't standing down, and he didn't want to shove her out of the way. 

"You are now, heartbreaker," she said, and kissed Heero on the cheek. Then she took him by the shoulders, turning him in place and giving him a gentle shove between the shoulder blades. "Remember, fight _for_ him, not _with_ him. Get. See you in a few weeks." 

Heero stumbled forward from the shove, scowling, and then squared his shoulders. There was nothing to lose but Duo, he told himself sternly. Besides, the little voice whispered, Enny's take on matters had seemed on the level so far. Nervously he tugged on the bottom of his shirt and strode off, pushing his way through the crowd. 

Navigating around the dance floor took longer than he expected, and Heero was starting to wonder if he'd lost Duo altogether when he saw the long-haired man leaning up against the wall, pinned in place by the taller blond. A hot wave of jealousy streaked through Heero's chest, and he growled under his breath as he pushed several people out of his way. 

As he got nearer, he could see Duo's face, and recognized that strange jester's mask where the smile didn't reach the eyes. It gave him a little reassurance, but didn't dim the possessive fury flaring up to full throttle. Clenching his fists, he covered the last few feet without being noticed. Heero took a deep breath and tapped the blond on the shoulder. The man turned to look, a question on his lips. 

"Wha―" 

Heero punched the man, a right hook straight to the jaw. 

The guy recoiled. Heero stepped forward, glaring, placing himself between the blond man and a stunned Duo. The blond glanced at Duo's expression, then at Heero's narrowed eyes. He moved towards Duo, his mouth open to speak. 

Heero kicked the taller man in the side of his knee. The man fell awkwardly. Heero followed with a solid blow of his fist between the man's shoulders. When the man didn't get up right away, Heero nodded, satisfied, then turned to Duo. The longhaired man's mouth was open, his eyes wide in shock. 

"Come on," Heero said, taking Duo by the arm. "We're going home." 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamian. I do, however, own...a plushie! That's right, I now have a plushie Jiji (the cat from Kiki's Delivery Service). Very cool. Sue me and you can have my basil plant, though. Stupid thing keeps growing. I can't come up with enough recipes that involve basil. 

I know I churned this chapter out faster than most people expected, so there's really not a lot of feedback yet. But hopefully everyone will catch up in the next few days while I take a break and figure out just what the hell is supposed to happen next. Wait, you thought I had an outline or something? Bwahaha. Fools! 

Aryl: Well, there's no nice seducing much of anything, but Heero needed someone who wouldn't sleep with him. Well, someone who'd offer but wouldn't push it. Oh, and hopefully now you understand a little better why Relena appeared, but Quatre didn't: Heero had no reason to talk to a 'complete stranger' (while undercover, remember) at the party. But Relena he could ask to dance, at least. ;-) 

Suiryoku: Hackers appearing again soon, I promise, cause we've got to get back to the mission after this short interlude for The Mess-up Known As Duo. Sheesh! 

Srusse87: Aww shucks...but hopefully now you have a little more insight, along with Heero. And while I do like Goofy Duo in fanfictions, or Angsty Duo, when I'm in the mood, the truth is he's really not that goofy in the series. He talks a lot, at times, but really only when he's in Shinigami mode. The rest of the time he's pretty much someone who keeps his own counsel. And don't worry, they'll work it out by the end of the story even if I have to beat Duo over the head with the plotline! 

GoldenRat: All grown up and saving China. *sniffle* Oh, wait, pop culture reference alert. Ahem. Anyway, yup, I hope so. If I wrote Heero like he were still 15, this story would've been a lot shorter, cause I would've had him die in the teeth of a combine engine rather than put up with him. Hehe. 

Also, many thanks to Sevenall, Okaasan, Netta J, RadicalThief, and Presser, for cheering me via email. ;-) 


	33. kneeling by the river

**03 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

You were looking like Picasso   
With a scar across your shoulder  
You were kneeling by the river  
You were digging up the bodies  
Buried long ago  
― Emmy Lou Harris 

The door swung shut behind them, silence thick as colony isolation shields, encasing them both in unspoken recriminations and questions. Heero slipped off his leather jacket and uncharacteristically let it fall to the floor, an admission of exhaustion. Duo didn't move from his place by the door. The longhaired man's head was down, as it had been since Heero shoved him into the nearest taxi, snarling at the protesting couple first in line. 

The lights were off, and Heero glanced sideways to see Duo's profile. The other man's face was drawn, closed-off. Heero recalled that expression from the war. Duo was thinking, and Heero wasn't sure he wanted to hear what Duo had to say. Forestalling the rebellion, the dark-haired man decided to continue with the aggressive approach. 

"Take off your coat," Heero ordered. Brushing past Duo, who was now regarding him with a startled look, Heero opened the fridge and pulled out the water. Drinking straight from the bottle, he replaced it as Duo finished hanging up both coats. Heero set the water back in the fridge with a sigh, shutting the door. The apartment was plunged back into darkness, and Heero allowed his eyes a second to adjust again. 

The jester's smile was back on Duo's face, and he shoved past Heero to get a beer from the fridge. "All put away, nice and neat, captain. And I didn't know there was a curfew," Duo added, but the humor didn't permeate his voice anymore than it reached his eyes. "If my staying out late bothers you, I hear there's an apartment for rent on the first floor. I'll even help you pack...Friends do that." 

He's just protecting himself, the inner voice observed, and Heero struggled to keep his temper in check. When he spoke, his voice was almost a growl, laced with frustration and confusion. "Duo." He exhaled sharply, and tried again, his hands clenching in fists. "I don't know whether to hit you, yell at you, or kiss you." 

The young man froze, the unopened beer still in his hand. Duo's smile disappeared, replaced with a defiant scowl, then a guilty flush, followed by a hopeful gleam, finally settling into a wary solemnity. Heero stifled the urge to smile, suddenly recognizing what he needed to do. Silently he wondered what Enny might like as a thank-you present, and he chuckled softly as he stepped closer to Duo and took the beer from Duo, placing it gently on the countertop. 

"Thought so," Heero said under his breath. A muscle flickered in Duo's jaw, but the Deathscythe pilot held his ground. Stepping close enough to get right in Duo's space, Heero studied the other man's rigid lips, then let his gaze trail back up the pert nose, the high cheekbones, into the indigo eyes, shadowed with apprehension. 

The dark-haired man regarded the shorter man intently for several seconds before speaking again. "Let's get one thing clear. This..." Heero leaned forward, ghosting his lips across Duo's, and then pulled away just a finger-span as he spoke again. "...matters to me. If it doesn't..." Heero leaned in again, and ran his tongue across Duo's lips, now softly parted, before he pulled back. "...mean anything to you, tell me. Tell me now." 

Duo didn't respond, but when Heero pulled back a little more, Duo leaned forward, seeking Heero's lips. The deep blue eyes flashed as Duo registered his involuntary reaction, and he jerked backwards, a line forming between his brows. Heero almost sighed, and didn't move. 

Got to say it out loud, he reminded himself, and took a deep breath before he spoke. 

"I made my choice," Heero stated calmly, fighting to keep from reaching out and embracing Duo. Instead, he settled for unbroken eye contact. "But part of that choice...I mean, when I made that choice, I realize...I won't share. I'm greedy," he added with a nearly imperceptible shrug of one shoulder. "I want the good, but I want the bad, too. If you can do that, I'm here." Heero took a long step to the apartment's front door, and opened it with a harsh yank. "If not, then you're the one moving out, not me. I said I'm staying, and I am." 

"Staying," Duo repeated, but the sound was nearly lost in the rush of Duo's exhaled breath. 

"What do you want?" Heero tilted his head, absently aware he was still holding the door open. The hallway's dim light flooded in, highlighting the planes of Duo's face, casting his eyes into deeper shadows. 

Duo blinked, then frowned, his lips twisting as though he couldn't manage the words. His hands were twisting nervously at the hem of his black shirt, and it seemed to be only with considerable exertion of self-control that he stopped the nervous action. Duo opened his mouth, closed it, and frowned again, his eyes sliding away from Heero's. Dully, the longhaired man shrugged, a patently false nonchalant movement. 

"Don't give me that," Heero snarled, his hand clenching tightly enough around the doorknob to put dents in the metal. The metallic complaint startled him, and he loosened his hold, but only by an increment. "If our friendship means anything to you, anything at all...you've got to talk to me." 

"Why?" Duo's response was unexpectedly loud, the single word loaded heavily with bitterness. He blinked, clearly startled at the volume, and forced a laugh to cover, but the sound was brittle. "You never talked to me...it was all me, doing the talking, for two years. And then you left, and it was damn hard talking when you weren't even there." 

The longhaired man grinned, a cruel expression, and grabbed the beer on the countertop, navigating swiftly around Heero to head into the living room. At the window he paused, opening the beer as he stared at Heero by the open door. 

Duo chuckled, a coarse sound, and shook his head. "Now you want me to talk, when it's convenient for you?" His tone was light, and it didn't fit his words or the hard glare in his eyes. "Guess you were off learning to be a human being and crap, so now you think you need to psychoanalyze me, or something. Well, fuck _you_. What gives you that right?" 

"Our friendship." 

"Bullshit. This is you, thinking you can run the show, just like you always did during the war." Duo laughed again, his head canted to one side as he snapped his fingers once. "I get it, I'm your newest mission!" 

Heero lowered his head, breathing slowly through his nose, and considered the situation. Duo's voice had risen in volume, the braid swaying as Deathscythe's pilot punctuated his statement by turning to face the window. Heero gritted his teeth and slowly shut the apartment door, taking a long moment to lock and latch it. 

"I just want you to tell me what you want," Heero finally said into the darkness. "That doesn't mean you're a...mission." That's not true, the inner voice replied, even as the words left Heero's mouth. The acknowledgment made him pause. 

"Everything's a mission with you, Heero," Duo hissed, all lightness gone. "Always has been. All business." 

Heero spun on his heel, his eyes narrowed as he threw up his hands. "Duo, shut _up_," he snapped, then sighed again, running a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping a little. "I'm...sorry. I know I seem...cold sometimes. I retain enough training that it's automatic to think in terms of outcomes. But it's not a bad thing. I'm never going to be someone who lives impulsively, without past or future. I set goals, and work towards them." 

There was a pause, and Heero could see Duo turn his head away, silhouetted in the window. "Bully for you, asshole," Duo muttered. 

Heero bit back his instinctive response, grimly reminding himself not to rise to the bait. Against the backlighting of the colony streetlight, it seemed to him that Duo was trembling, the braid quivering against the slender back and taut shoulders. The cords on the man's neck were visible, illuminated by the golden light seeping into the room. 

The dark-haired man rubbed the bridge of his nose and rapidly measured his possible reactions, and the likely results of each. Unintentionally, he snorted, amused by the observation. 

"What?" Duo half-turned, his tone suspicious. 

Heero offered a half-smile as he moved to join Duo by the window. Letting down his guard, he regarded the other ex-Gundam pilot with an openly affectionate expression. "I just realized that in a half-second, I'd run through the permutations of each possible course of action available to me. So I guess you're right." 

Duo's eyes were sharp, even as the corner of his mouth twitched slightly. Heero raised one eyebrow, and let his own crooked smile grow a little. Finally Duo relented, gradually, and the subtle trembling subsided as he turned to stare out at the colony. 

"Beautiful, isn't it," he said. Heero recognized the words as a peace offering, and kept silent. Duo took a long drink before continuing. "We fought to protect this, and now it's getting along without us. And here...we can't get along." 

"It takes work," Heero replied softly. "They didn't get it overnight. We won't, either." 

"I just wish..." Duo's voice trailed off, and he didn't even react when Heero took the beer from him, drank, and handed it back. "I wish...things weren't so complicated." 

"I don't believe it," Heero said. "You'd get bored without a challenge." 

"Think you know me so well?" The quiet voice suddenly had a dangerous undertone. 

"Only in some things." Heero set the beer on the windowsill and jerked his head in the direction of the bedroom. "For instance, I can't tell if you're tired. I am, though." 

Duo grinned slightly, an abashed look as he ducked his head. "Yeah...Me, too." 

Ten minutes later, in the bedroom, Heero was slipping under the covers as Duo lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. Heero wasn't surprised to find the slim, cool fingers reaching for him even as he settled into place on his side, facing Duo. 

"Heero?" The word was a whisper, barely audible above the rustle of sheets as the longhaired man shifted under the blankets. "Did you...do you...mean all that...what you said?" 

"Yes," Heero replied. "And I'm sorry for telling you to shut up." 

"It's okay." The room was silent again, but Duo's breathing didn't drop into sleep. Instead, the profile was creased as Duo stared up, his eyes open wide. Finally he moved again, his fingers curling in Heero's palm. "It means something to me, too. It means a lot, or else I wouldn't have...the other night..." His voice trailed off. 

Heero didn't move, stunned. Soon Duo's breathing had become the quiet purring sound that indicated he was asleep, and Heero slowly let out the deep breath he'd been holding. 

Enny was wrong, he realized. If Duo was acting solely to protect himself, it wasn't planned or conscious. The idiot, Heero's small voice cried, honestly thinks the one-sided sex on New Year's Eve was a meaningful act. Sighing, Heero rolled onto his back and rubbed his forehead. Three hours until he had to get up for work, and he was still no closer to really understanding Duo. 

* * *

The next afternoon was Duo's day off, and he was huddled over the laptop when Heero got home from work. Deathscythe's pilot waved with one hand as Heero stumbled over, but didn't say anything. Collapsing with a sigh on the other floor pillow, Heero scrubbed at his face and waited for Duo to take a break. 

"Mike's really getting on my nerves," Duo finally said, and pushed the laptop towards Heero. The dark-haired man blinked at the screen. 

"What's he doing?" Heero rubbed his eyes again, yawned, and quickly opened a second connection to the forum, but didn't see reason to jump through the hoops like Duo had done the last time they'd been on together. His dove's wing avatar was greeted with a flurry of private windows, each with questions, and Heero grinned ruefully as he glanced at Duo. "That's the bargain, Duo. They do the work, but I answer the questions in return." 

"I figured that," Duo said. His expression was a little sulky, and Heero frowned, puzzled. "But Mike...he's like...obsessed with Deathscythe." 

Heero laughed softly. "You have a fan." 

Duo shrugged. "He's a kid. I don't want him to..." 

"Know about what we did? Or know how to duplicate it?" 

The other man snorted, but his eyes didn't meet Heero's. 

"I understand," Heero said, although he wasn't completely certain. Duo's protective, too, the small voice suggested, and Heero decided that was probably it. "I suppose I'm not the only one who forgets sometimes that ignorance shouldn't be part of peace," he offered quietly. "Sorry. Just answer the questions you're okay with. I don't always answer everything myself." 

"Like which ones?" 

Heero tilted his head to the side as he stared at the screen, a little uncomfortable. His fingers continued to fly across the keyboard as he answered the latest questions. "I don't like the ones...about Relena, or anyone's private lives." 

"That's cool." Duo raised his eyebrows as Heero leaned away from the laptop. "Done with Mike's annoying self?" When Heero nodded, Duo pulled the laptop back over and placed it across his lap. Duo typed for several seconds, then nodded at the screen as he began speaking. "The syndicate's server on L2 routes roughly eighty to a hundred and twenty thousand outgoing emails in a twenty-four period." The thief tapped the keyboard a few times, and threw Heero a quick Cheshire grin. "So when you told the hackers to get the emails and headers, they ended up with 717,399 separate files. Three days of skillful hidden downloading, and almost a week of scrambling to find homes for it." 

"I remember," Heero replied. He'd gotten a note about it the last time he'd withdrawn money from his L2 bank account. "I assume they found server space." 

"Eventually. Pinky and Snappy spent two days coming up with a program that will parse the contents of each email, looking for words and phrases. They came up with the hundred most common, flagged the emails with each, and all of them spent the next few days reviewing roughly a quarter of each flagged sets, trying to determine a pattern." Duo grinned again, an impish look, before getting serious. "Those phrases and words were then run against the entire set of emails, and the resulting flags were cordoned off into a separate list." 

Heero rubbed his forehead and wished he could take a nap. Sighing, he got up and headed to the kitchen for a beer. Duo continued the explanation. 

"Those hackers are a step ahead, or just second-guessing our goals. They're setting it up so the emails can be catalogued for use in a legal investigation." 

"The emails wouldn't be allowed," Heero replied, standing by the counter as he drank. "Search and seizure, invasion of privacy, no warrants..." 

"If they were Preventer agents, you'd be right," Duo pointed out, his tone amiable. "But they're not. What they found could be used." 

"But they found it on our request―" 

"You're not an agent, are you?" 

"No, but you―" 

"Aren't one, either." Duo moved the laptop off his lap and lay back, clasping his fingers behind his head. "I'm not on any payrolls, private records, nothing. As far as Preventers is concerned, I'm somewhere on L2 minding my own business." 

"Good thing this _is_ your business." Heero smirked and threw the empty bottle in the trash. "Get back to the email issue." 

"Guess the most common phrase." 

"I have no idea." The photographer strolled back to the living room and leaned against the windowsill, stretching his legs out in front of him. "See you soon? Attached please find?" 

"No, and no," Duo replied, shaking his head. "It's 'unsubscribe me' and 'if you received this in error'." 

"Electronic marketing." 

"Spam." Duo laughed, and pulled his braid around to fiddle absently with the hair tie. "That cut out approximately one-third, leaving us with 478,266 files. Then they ran the program on the remaining files, went through the process again, and have used that to sort the headers into categories." 

"What kind?" Heero yawned. He ignored Duo's raised eyebrow. 

"Hope I'm not boring you." 

"You're not. I just didn't get much sleep." 

Duo didn't reply at first, but sat up and typed at the keyboard for a minute before turning to look over his shoulder at Heero. "Rat says they're about halfway through. There are approximately a hundred categories now. He's uploading it to the forum so we can review the file tree. It's broken into corporate and private emails, depending on the originating source. From there, the emails are divided by content. Political figures, geographic locations, company names, that sort of thing." 

"Did they do any checks on number strings?" 

"You mean like serial numbers, social registration, or..." Duo let the last word hang, turning the statement into a question. 

"Gun models." 

"Don't know. Hold on." He leaned over the laptop again, and his braid thumped against the floor as it slid off his shoulder. Annoyed, Duo automatically flipped it back over his shoulder without pausing in typing. "Rat says no, but he'll have Pinky modify the program this evening and start running it tonight. He'll have something for us in a day or two." 

"Close out my window, would you?" Heero pushed away from the wall and stood up, stretching lazily for a long breath. When he relaxed, he noticed Duo was watching him closely. Heero gave Duo a half-smile and yawned again. "I need a nap. I'll be up in an hour." 

"I'm going to go grocery shopping," Duo replied, not looking up. "How does Mexican and German sound?" 

"At the same time?" Heero winced. "Burritos and sausages don't sound appetizing." 

"That's disgusting. No, I meant dinner, then dessert. The local deli has Black Forest cake this week." Duo smacked his lips appreciatively, and Heero rolled his eyes. 

"If you want it, get it." The photographer stretched again, then stopped. "I nearly forgot to tell you. We've got something to celebrate." 

"Really?" 

"The list is up for the convention. We're both on the floor staff." 

"Fucking-A!" Duo shot up, coming to his heels as he pumped one fist in the air. "Shit, I will be so happy to never wait another table again in my _life_." 

Heero was surprised. "I thought you like it." 

"It's okay, but it's rough on the feet." Duo gave Heero a lopsided smile and shut the laptop's lid. He stood up. "There's got to be easier ways to make money. Anyway, this definitely means cake for dessert." He grabbed his wallet off the countertop, rifling through it quickly to determine how many credits he had. 

"If you insist," Heero said, waiting until Duo had gotten close enough. He stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Duo, and hugged the young man closely, back-to-front. With his free hand, he pushed aside Duo's braid and planted a soft open-mouth kiss at the back of Duo's neck before he spoke. "But I was thinking of a different kind of dessert." 

"Oh," Duo said, the exclamation turning into a soft moan. He pushed himself back a little, up against Heero, and moaned again as Heero continued to suckle the sensitive spot at the base of Duo's neck. Deathscythe's pilot wriggled a little as he spoke, his voice a husky whisper. "I like your idea better." 

"Good," Heero replied, and let go. Hearing Duo's complaining whimper, Heero smiled wickedly. "I'm going to take a nap. See you in an hour." 

"Tease," Duo muttered, but he was grinning. 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamian. I do, however, own a box of Pocky. It's an empty box now, but I suppose I should take this chance to announce that I am now formally among the ranks of People Who Don't Mind Pocky That Much. I'm not sure I'm a complete convert, and I don't like the strawberry kind, but anything with chocolate can't be that bad, right? 

Maldoror: Romantic tension? Bwahaha. Sorry. I just don't see either of them as very romantic, but I'm glad I can write some sort of tension. There's not much resolved in this chapter, when I really stop and think about it, but things are moving along. The next chapter will chronologically pick up right at dinner, so hopefully they'll figure something out before bedtime. ;-) 

Shinimegami82: Duo's reasons were explained by Enny, but Heero's figuring out the parts that Enny didn't know. It's such a relief to hear that folks think the scene was still okay. I'm not nervous about writing lemons; I'm just nervous as to whether the intent (of Duo's behavior) came through, without sounding like I was just writing a bad lemon. No, it was just mediocre sex! 

CinC: Well, now you know. Duo got an idea...but he's got his own ideas, too. Damn character keeps insisting on doing his own thing, and I was trying to make him all romantic and fuzzy, so he could fall into Heero's arms while crying something like, uh, "my heeeero!"...Heh. Gotta wonder if the GW people knew about that pun when they came up with the naming convention. But anyway...These things move slowly, but I'm doing the best I can. And Heero's stubborn – he's not about to give up that easily. Duo's gonna fall at some point! 

KatsyKat: Yeah, *cackle*...Enny's grown on me, too. She's really turning out to be a complete joy to write, and I had an absolute ball writing her scenes with Heero. He can be such a stick-in-the-mud, so having someone like Enny to bounce stuff off him is just a hoot. The mission with Hilde was much the same, except Hilde carries emotional baggage as a result of being Duo's best friend, so she was more guarded. Enny doesn't have that barrier to speaking her mind. Besides, sometimes a person really needs a kick in the ass, and who better to do it than a green-haired pimp? 

Asuka: I find it highly amusing, how many people immediately made the connection between Heero's behavior and Cave Man Heero. Sheesh. That wasn't quite what I intended, but I imagine even the sanest among us would be a little peeved to go through what Duo's put Heero through. Seemed like Heero needed the chance to finally respond bluntly, instead of keeping to himself. He's at least learning to take his own advice, in this chapter...or starting to, at least. 

Lainwyn: Several folks have commented on the Q&T situation, to which I can only say: if you think of them as all being undercover, then the likelihood of extended conversation between an L4 businessman and an L1 dancer is probably low. Plus, there were four Gundam pilots at one location. People are dense, but not that stupid. I couldn't justify ignoring the possibility that someone would say, "hey, don't those guys look familiar?" Or some such...For the sake of the mission, at least one of them (probably Trowa, though this Quatre would agree) chose to simply pretend to be strangers. But it's still no fun, watching it. 

Dyna: see my response to Lainwyn. Mule-headed men...bwahaha, now I'm thinking of Midsummer's Night Dream. But really, you're right. They can both be such lunkheads, but that just alleviates what might otherwise be too much skill, too much talent, too much close-to-perfect, and that's no fun. I mean, really. Not only can they pilot Gundams at the age of 15, win wars, and go on to be successful in college, but they can also wait tables without breaking things, serving cold food, or getting fired. See, now that's talent. Who wouldn't hate them for being too perfect, then? Heh. 

Aryl: You're allowed to not like Relena, but she's still in the story. Just be happy it's not all written from her POV. Although that would be boring. "Day Hundred-and-Fifty-Seven: Still no idea what's going on with Duo, Trowa, Hilde, and Heero." Hehe. Anyway, I don't think Enny had green hair while in the military. I'm betting it was probably a dark red-brown, closer to Heero's or Trowa's color. And you're right about the teaching...next chapter, lesson one! ;-) 

SilverCaladan: Now you know how Duo's reacted...yeah, wasn't what I expected, either. I was going to have him storm all over the place, maybe rant, and then do some skillful falling into Heero's arms with a nice lemony dessert. We sat down and discussed it thoroughly, and he agreed, but every time I started writing, he had to go and improvise. So...maybe he'll behave next chapter, but I'm not holding my breath. Guess we'll just have to wait and see... 

And many thanks to those who wrote me about the last chapter with demands for more: Kristina, Mrs P., Koyote, sami-pi, Moffit, Reb, Antoinette, Beth, Casey Valhalla, Okaasan, and Kiya Sama. If I've said it once, I've said it in every chapter, and if I haven't, I should have: everyone who takes the time to send a review just absolutely rocks my world. Thanks, y'll! ;-) 


	34. zefyr announcement

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,  
Enwrought with golden and silver light,  
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths  
Of night and light and the half-light  
--- W. B. Yeats

Heero said nothing during dinner, too busy getting second helpings to bother with conversation. The action of cleaning his plate was enough to make Duo beam.

"I got cake," Duo said, when Heero set the plate on the floor. "Are you hungry now, or did you want to wait?"

"Your choice," Heero replied, then shrugged half-heartedly as he pushed his fork across the empty plate. "I've...never had Black Forest cake."

"Really?" Duo's eyebrows shot up in mock-amazement. "You've lived a truly deprived life, and I know what I'm talking about." He took both their plates and got up, returning in a minute with a knife and a plastic box. Opening it, he pushed it towards Heero. "Looks good, doesn't it."

Heero dutifully looked, then frowned. "It looks...black."

"Wait 'til you taste it." Duo grinned, a mischievous look in his deep blue eyes. "Close your eyes."

He shot Duo a suspicious glance, and then closed his eyes with a sigh. "Don't you dare smash that in my face."

"Relax, that's only for people getting married." 

There were quiet sounds of plastic rubbing against plastic, then a soft swoosh, and muffled giggles of Duo's quiet excitement. A second later something touched Heero's lips and he jumped, not expecting the contact. He could feel Duo's hand immediately bump against his nose as a result of his skittish movement. Heero opened his eyes to see Duo's face contorted as the other man struggled to keep from laughing.

"Duo. I warned you."

"Shit, Heero, I didn't plan it," Duo whined, but the defensive sound was drowned in the giggles stuttering out between the words. "It's on your nose, now."

Tentatively Heero stuck out his tongue and licked at the base of his nose, then tasted. It wasn't bad, even if it was richer than the chocolate Quatre had given him once during the war. Scowling, he wiped his nose and licked his fingers carefully, surprised to find himself giving Duo a crooked smile. "Not bad."

"Not bad?" Duo grinned and ate the rest of the smashed piece still in his hands. "It's great. Hilde got me hooked on this stuff."

"Including the way you eat it?" The words were out of his mouth before he realized the implication, and Heero schooled his face into innocent indifference as Duo shot him a narrowed look. Heero kept his eyes on the cake, however, and the moment passed as Duo laughed.

"No, she believes in forks. Here, have some more." 

"Maybe later." Heero stood up. 

"Where are you going?" Looking up from his cross-legged seat on the floor, with his fingers in his mouth, Duo's indigo eyes only accentuated his suddenly young appearance. 

Heero smirked, and leaned over. "Let's have dessert after dessert."

"Have what?" Duo's eyes went even wider, and Heero's lips twitched into a genuine smile. Duo tilted his head, sucking the last chocolate off his fingers. "What are you planning?"

"Come on, Duo," Heero said, his voice dropping to a rasp. "You know exactly what you're doing to me." He tugged at Duo's sticky hand, smiling crookedly as he drew the longhaired man to his feet and pulled him gently towards the bedroom.

The kiss seemed endless, tongue against tongue, teeth nipping on lips, the heat and wet swirling until lights flashed behind Heero's eyes. Carefully and slowly he had pressed Duo down on the bed, until they knelt facing each other. Duo's hands were shaking, but Heero held them in his own, then took both in his right. With his left hand, Heero began to run his fingers down Duo's cheek, down his neck, playing at the edges of his shirt to run along the collarbone. The longhaired man shifted slightly, trying to pull away. 

Heero broke the kiss and placed his forehead against Duo's, watching the deep blue eyes in the colony's dimming daylights. "Shh, Duo, I let you...this time, let me."

Heero scratched a nail down Duo's neck, and the young man whimpered a little. Heero exhaled slowly through his nose, a controlled exhale, trying to force the fire in his groin down to a manageable level.

"But..." Duo's face scrunched up. He looked uncertain. 

"Be quiet, already," Heero growled softly. Waiting until Duo's eyes seemed to acknowledge the request, however reluctantly, Heero ducked his head and began kissing Duo's neck. He held the other man by the back of the neck, pulling Duo close as Heero suckled and bit where shoulder meets neck. Duo struggled for a second, his hands still trapped, but stopped moving when Heero didn't release him. 

It took another fifteen minutes of murmured reassurances before the dark-haired man felt comfortable releasing Duo's hands long enough to remove Duo's black shirt. Even then Duo curled away a little, not quite covering himself. Heero was torn between rolling his eyes at Duo's self-conscious reaction, and sniggering at the way Duo was instinctively acting like a virgin. 

Even I can't claim virginity, Heero thought, and decided to go with the third option: ignoring Duo's blush.

Heero put his hands behind his own head, yanking his own shirt off in one smooth move. Tossing it aside with little thought, he quickly reached for Duo, who had started to shrink back. Once again he had to coax Duo with light touches and kisses, until the longhaired man was softly moaning under the caress of fingers on a nipple and a tongue running across his ear. 

When he plucked one of Duo's nipples, though, the other man stiffened under his touch. Heero bit back an exasperated snarl. His cock was too hard, throbbing painfully inside his jeans, and now the braid-wearing idiot wanted to play hard-to-get. Before he could say anything, Duo's whisper reached his ears.

"It'll...it'll be better..." Duo sighed, a soft caress of breath across Heero's shoulder. "I can..."

It was as though he were sitting back in Wing Zero, and Heero nearly blinked in astonishment, the way his mind could still unfold and separate the threads of the future. Duo wanted to take over again. If he responded by dominating Duo with strength, Heero risked either a backlash, or the creation of a new pattern that would be difficult to undo. If he gave way, he would merely repeat the pattern Duo was already trying hard to continue. Again he realized and accepted the best option, all in a matter of a single second. 

Heero settled back on his heels, and took Duo's hands with both of his, clasping them loosely. For a long moment he let his gaze travel across Duo's body, up the slim waist, past the ribs barely showing, to the light brown nipples standing proud, to the collarbones curving under the pale flesh. Heero's eyes traveled back down, to the black jeans loosely cradling Duo's groin, the bulge at the crotch signifying Duo's arousal, the fine down of chestnut hairs just barely visible above the waistband of the black jeans. Sighing, he pursed his lips and massaged Duo's palms lightly with his thumbs.

Heero's voice was barely a whisper. "Duo, do you know what you want?"

"What I..." The longhaired man tilted his head, confused.

"Tell me what you want to do to me."

"I'd rather?" His words were cut off as Heero shook his head once, a curt movement.

"No," Heero replied. "Tell me."

Duo licked his lips nervously, and then raised his eyebrows in a gesture of amused surrender. "Alright, Heero...I..." His voice dropped to a soft mumble. "I want to kiss your nipples...and...bite an' suck on them..." Duo's words trailed off as he ducked his head, embarrassed.

"Ah." Heero didn't wait for Duo's response, but leaned forward. He let go of one of Duo's hands to wrap his arm around Duo's waist, and pressed his lips against the longhaired man's chest. Licking softly, Heero nuzzled his way to the right nipple, kissing it open-mouthed before running his tongue around the aureole and biting down. Duo hissed, arching his back. His free hand scrabbled at Heero's shoulder, but he didn't say anything. 

Heero grunted. He recognized the action as merely a symbolic gesture, signifying Duo's protest and yet a reluctant acceptance at the same time. He clasped Duo's hand tighter, holding it away from their bodies, and continued planting kisses across Duo's chest, nibbling at points until he came to the other nipple. Latching on, he suckled until he could feel Duo pressing against his mouth, the braid sliding against Heero's arm as Duo leaned his head back. Heero smiled around the flesh, and kissed once more before pulling his head away.

"What else," he prompted softly. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched Duo's face, the lips open and panting, the eyelids heavy with pleasure. "Tell me, Duo, tell me," he coaxed. 

A memory - of being pinned to the wall as Duo cajoled him into speaking – flashed into Heero's head. He ducked his head rather than let Deathscythe's pilot see the smile tracing across his lips.

Duo swallowed hard, lifting his head a little even as his eyes slid shut. "I...I want to run my hands down your back, slip them inside your jeans, and feel your ass against my hands."

Heero released Duo's hand, letting it rest against the futon, and ran his fingers down Duo's spine to where his arm was still wrapped around Duo's waist. Slipping his free hand down farther, he pushed his fingers under Duo's jeans, slipping them down until his palm was against Duo's ass. Lifting Duo just a bit, Heero watched the other man's face contort slightly as Heero's forefinger brushed down the crevice. Massaging gently with his hand, Heero leaned forward to place butterfly-light kisses along Duo's jaw.

"And then? Tell me," he said, a soft whisper against Duo's skin. He could feel Duo swallow hard, his adam's apple bobbing.

From here, the chapter becomes NC-17. If you want to continue with that version, you will need to go to www. sweetlysour . net / sol / dr-34.htm ... again, remember to remove the spaces. It's a definite NC-17 chapter, and as such doesn't fit ff.net's guidelines for acceptable posting material.

I understand that ff.net has its rules; everyone does. And frankly, I'd prefer to write shonen-ai, and not explicit yaoi, because I think a story works much better when the reader has to use a little imagination. The problem is that Drums is a brutally honest story, tracing Heero's path from reclusive introvert to someone with a relationship who's regained and rebuilt his friendships. I've shirked nothing else of the story, and what occurs in this chapter is pretty emotionally intense, and an important step on the way. So after some extremely lengthy discussions with myself, I've decided the explicit sex scene is justified in terms of the story I'm writing. Don't expect it for every story, but this one... yeah. It needs to be in here.

However, I just didn't have the time or energy – nor could I really justify – doing another 'variant' just to make it past the R-rating. Much of the point of the chapter is Heero's learning process, so you get the truth of it in spades. If, however, you aren't comfortable with this kind of thing, that's cool. If you want to skip over this chapter, you're welcome to, but I'm not willing to write a second chapter of lower quality that would diverge from the story just to fit a rating. A general summary of the chapter is below, if you don't want to skip to the other version. If you do want to read the full version, hopefully the white space will protect anyone from spoilers if they want to be surprised. ;-)

Heero and Duo have dessert, and Heero is introduced to chocolate cake. Watching Duo clean his fingers gives Heero ideas, and he drags Duo off to the bedroom. In a nutshell, it's a struggle – of willpower, not strength – to get Duo to let Heero take an active role. Heero manages this by having Duo tell him what Duo wants to do, and then doing it to Duo. Heero makes it as far as he can in foreplay before admitting he doesn't quite know what to do next. Duo skitters for the bathroom, returns, and the next scene opens with more foreplay for the actual sexual act. By the end of the chapter, Heero's spoken dirty to Duo during sex, while Duo pretty much turns into putty. At the immediate end of the sex act, Heero gets to hold Duo as they both recuperate. (I don't mean post-coital extensive cuddling, just remaining within the sexual embrace for a little longer than the first time.)

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamian. I do, however, own a five-gallon bucket of Semi-Transparent Wood Stain, in Golden Oak. And any minute now I am going to get my duff out on that stupid wooden deck and start sealing it in time for winter. And then I am going to spend the rest of the day in an alkaloid high, thanks to the oil fumes. Say, what is it with me and fumes this past week? Vicious. Anyway...

First, I've got to say that I completely forgot last chapter to thank the two people who so graciously beta'd the Intense Emotional Conflict part. Sometimes a writer just needs a second opinion, y'know? Fortunately, **CleverYoungThief** and **Casey** **Valhalla** were kind enough to step into the breach, point out issues, and generally thwack me for being nervous. Boy, if that chapter made me nervous, it was nothing like writing this one, I tell ya! But this chapter I went to **Okaasan**, who is probably still fanning herself. (But she did have constructive recommendations, which have made this chapter much better, IMO.) W00t, I did in an experienced lemon-reader! Go me! ;-)

**Aryl**: So much lemony fresh scent, you're probably on the floor gasping for air, eh? Heh. Although it occurred to me, after posting the chapter, that I should've made Duo a bit more skittish about being approached, but I think it's okay. It's not like he's got a phobia about it, but it's a hard balance to create without making him seem like an overly nervous nutcase... which he definitely isn't. He's just protecting himself while trying to do as good a job in a relationship that's also new to him.

**Shinimegami82**: Writing fast doesn't mean I avoid writer's block. I've been struggling with another story for several months now, and I think most of the fans of that series are giving up and going home. *sigh* But I do recommend writing when you're in the mood, and going with it for as long as possible. Writing is very much a mood-induced and –influenced thing. I also recommend daydreaming about the story, playing out possible endings and permutations, and filler scenes. That helps me visualize, and then it's just a matter of being disciplined enough to sit down and write. I also type fast. I think that helps, too. 

**Maldorer**: Heero got past several hurdles *cough* this chapter, eh? Hope it meets with your approval... ;-)

**Nlp**: I've been wondering where you've been! ;-) Yes, communication is key, but it's hard. I didn't want everything to be solved in one Big Talk, full of the empty resolutions like what you see in movies. These two characters have a lot of history, and I suspect even as they work out one part, there will be other things to trip them up. And, of course, they are still on a job...

**SeYa**: Aww, you're too kind. I'm always happy to hear I've captured the characters and can write them believably – this fandom is so massive it's hard to not be intimidated by some of the writings that already exist. I mean, really, I think Duo-and-Heero has been written in just about every way possible. Writing something that people think stands out, then, is even more cool.

**Kaori**: Hah, I love it when people say they're dying to know what comes next: so am I! I think I know what's going to happen, but I'm not sure. Here's a hint: there's a rumor that the mission is about to take a big step to the left... but I guess by now, having seen so many plot twists already thrown at you, that you knew to expect that, didn't you?

**GoldenRat**: As long as you don't start calling it Dawson's Heaven again, I think we'll get along fine. Heh. Yeah, I think Heero's got potential even in the original series to be a good friend (or more), because he is a staunch kind of ally. He stands by people, once he knows where they stand. And he's passionate, if a little unbalanced about it sometimes (psychotic laugh per episode, anyone?). At least, that's all potential I could see in him.

**Asuka** **Kureru**: Hey, see my note to Shin. I type fast! And by the way, I think the hackers are going to show up in the next chapter. They've been working so hard, they deserve a little time in the spotlight. Besides, I think it's been a few chapters since Mike the Hand has been kicked out of the forum for disrespecting elite hackers.

Also, many thanks to the rest of the peanut gallery corresponding with me elsewhere: **Sevenall**, **Morgan**, **CleverYoungThief**, **Casey** **Valhalla**, **Okaasan**, **Presser**, **Koyote**, and **Porcelain**. Thanks, everyone! ;-)


	35. the dice are loaded

**03 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded  
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed  
Everybody knows that the war is over  
Everybody knows the good guys lost  
― Leonard Cohen 

Sixteen days until the convention, ten hours after mind-blowing sex. Heero smiled as he stared at the ceiling. Rolling over, he smiled even wider to see Duo's sleeping profile, and stretched in place before sitting up. It was then he noticed they were lying with only a foot between them, instead of what had been the normal two-foot distance. That's another good sign, the small voice in his head commented, and Heero was pleased to agree. 

When they'd stopped moving, both consumed by their orgasms, Heero had held Duo for several minutes, startled at his good fortune and at the fact that Duo didn't pull away. Duo laughed self-consciously, though, when they started to move at the same time; their legs were starting to cramp from the awkward position. Aside from some more blushing by Duo when he brought back a wet washcloth from the bathroom, Heero considered that the whole evening had been a great success. He still hadn't gotten a good look at Duo's tattoo, nor found a time to ask, as Duo had gotten dressed immediately afterwards. Heero returned from his own trip to the bathroom to find Duo moving the laptop into the bedroom, and they'd spent the rest of the evening watched movies while eating German chocolate cake. There hadn't been a great deal of conversation, but the intermittent affection over the rest of the evening had been casual and comfortable. 

But now it was five in the morning, and Heero's chance to sleep late wouldn't arrive for another two days. Yawning, he sent one more affectionate glance towards the other man, and grinned as Duo rolled over in his sleep to sprawl across the bed. Heero stepped over the remains of the Black Forest cake, slipped from the apartment, and headed to work. 

* * *

Two days later, Heero awoke at eight in the morning, standard time, and again watched Duo sleep for several minutes before quietly getting up and dressing. Duo had gotten home at one in the morning the past two nights, and Heero considered that one more positive sign. Duo wasn't going out to the clubs with his coworkers. That deserves a reward, the inner voice said. 

Heero contemplated this as he checked the kitchen, discovered there was no coffee, looked at the time, and decided to surprise Duo with breakfast. Or, he told himself, at least something to eat. He'd seen pastries at the local coffee shop where he bought coffee every morning. With a crooked grin, he put on his beaten-up leather jacket and let himself out. 

Heero was startled by how full the coffee shop was on a Tuesday morning, but then reminded himself he was there two hours later than usual. Standing in line, he was studying the pastries in the counter display when someone bumped him from behind. When he didn't turn around, a deep voice whispered into his ear, and his back stiffened. 

"Least you could do is say hello," the man said. 

Heero turned around, slowly, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. The tall black man was bald, and had a few inches on Heero. When the man grinned, his teeth flashed in his face, with a single gleam of gold. Heero canted his head, thought, and raised an eyebrow. 

"Sammy." 

"At your service, Hito. What's your poison?" 

The photographer realized they'd reached the head of the line, and he gave his order. It didn't reassure him when Sammy put in his order as well. The tall man glanced over at Heero, his eyebrows raised as he spoke. "You hungry?" 

Heero shook his head. His appetite had just disappeared, and he could feel his face settling into the indifferent mask he hadn't worn for two months. It felt uncomfortable, and he took advantage of the moments checking his coffee to center himself. Sammy jerked his head towards a small table at the side of the seating area, and Heero followed without a word. The nearby tables were empty. 

"What, no words of welcome for an old friend?" Sammy grinned expansively, then winced at the coffee. "Man, that's strong." 

Heero nodded, and settled in to wait. He wondered if Duo was up by now, and doubted it. 

Sammy watched him carefully, then grinned again, a predatory look as he leaned in close. "No, stop thinking that. Pops didn't send me, his bosses did. Someone had to come, and Enny stands out." 

Heero grunted, as though bored. 

"Green hair...gotta admit, a nice place like this? She practically screams, look at me!" Sammy chuckled, then switched topics abruptly, but the smile remained on his face. "What's your take on Trey?" 

Heero gave himself a mental pat on the back for his lack of reaction. It wasn't what he was expecting, but he wasn't entirely certain what he'd thought his day would bring. It certainly wasn't to be interrupted by an L2 syndicate employee while buying pastries so he could seduce Duo into accepting a beginner's blowjob, the small voice in his head taunted. Heero shoved the thought away. 

"Doesn't talk a lot," he finally offered. 

"Right," Sammy said, a light-hearted sarcasm filling his tone. "Come on, Hito. You're our inside guy on this team, and the bosses want to know what you've heard or seen." 

Something's come up, Heero thought, relieved to find his wartime training had no problem kicking in. Respiration, heartbeat, all normal. "Trey's loyal. Once he throws his lot in with someone, he won't budge. Any secrets he has, his own or someone else's, he'll protect." 

"You think he's on the level?" 

"Didn't say that." Heero sipped his coffee and narrowed his eyes at Sammy. "I didn't do background checks on the team. My job is being the muscle." 

"And waiting tables," Sammy added, a grin creasing his face again. "Must be doing pretty good, too. Saw that dress you bought Enny. Looked expensive. She's something when she cleans up, eh? And not half-bad in bed, either." 

Heero grunted and refused to ask the questions piling up in his head. Fortunately, Sammy saw no reason to remain silent. 

"Those two years in Mongolia checked out, by the way," the bald man told him, leaning back in his chair as he swirled absently at the coffee with a swizzle stick. "It's something from before that, when he would've been... fifteen, sixteen, I guess." 

"You discovered he was a law-abiding citizen." 

Sammy laughed, throwing his head back, a loud, open-mouthed action. Settling down, he leaned forward, still grinning, but the predatory gleam was back in his deep brown eyes. "Worse. He was in the circus." 

Heero made a point of letting his eyes widen, just a fraction. Sammy caught the expression, and chuckled softly. 

"One of the files from the prison had a picture, and one of the bosses apparently used to take his daughters to the circus every time they come to L2." Sammy shrugged. "He's pretty sure Trey's the kid that was getting knives thrown at him, or some crap like that." 

"Trey doesn't talk about himself." Heero drained the last of the coffee from his cup and gave Sammy a pointed look. 

"Word is you got him to talk before," Sammy prompted, then rolled his eyes. "At that Mexican dive he likes so much. The bosses want you to keep an eye on him, let Pops know if you see anything suspicious. They're checking into it, but if he's a snitch, he's got someone really good covering his tracks, and that makes 'em worried." 

"Or he really did work for the circus, and doesn't like to talk about it." Heero was tempted to crush his coffee cup, and settled for staring at Sammy, his expression unconcerned. 

"That could be," Sammy said. "But if he steps out of line, or does anything suspicious, take him down." 

Heero raised one eyebrow. 

"Just out of the picture," the bald guy said, and grinned, his gold tooth flashing in the colony's morning light. "Don't let him screw up your job. Besides, if it turns out he's not who he says he is, the bosses will want to deal with him. Personally." 

The ex-Gundam pilot nodded curtly. 

Sammy chuckled softly and stood up. "I ain't gonna kiss you goodbye or nothin', but you can finish my coffee. I recommend it highly. You might like what you find." With that, he touched a finger to his forehead and strolled from the shop, whistling as he waved good day to the girl behind the counter. 

Heero sat for several seconds, then picked up Sammy's cup, swirling it for several seconds before pouring the dark liquid into his own cup. Nonchalantly, he glanced down at the now-empty cup, his suspicions confirmed. There, at the bottom, in a small pool of coffee, sat a bright pink romchip. Tossing Sammy's cup back, Heero let the romchip slide into his mouth. He kept his face expressionless, and got up, carrying both cups. Pitching them in the trash, he purchased two more cups of coffee, two apple pastries, and left the coffee shop. 

He didn't think he was in the mood for a blowjob any more. 

* * *

Heero set the coffee and the bag of pastries next to Duo's side of the bed. A minute later he returned to the bedroom with the laptop, setting it up at the foot of the bed. Duo was curled up under the covers, only his braid and one hand visible. Heero stepped around the futon and seated himself cross-legged on his side of the bed. A few seconds later the hand moved, and the covers were pulled back to reveal Duo's deep blue eyes blinking sleepily at Heero. When the Wing Zero pilot didn't say anything, Duo frowned, rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand, and sat up. 

"Heero?" 

"Brought breakfast. We're out of coffee." 

"Oh." Duo yawned, stretched, and saw the clock. "Shit, it's nine-thirty. You woke me up before noon?" He pulled his braid forward, investigated the extent of post-sleep disarray, and flipped the braid back over his shoulder with a shrug. Duo then picked up one of the coffee cups and started to hand it to Heero. "Breakfast in bed... wow." 

"The syndicate's found out Trowa was with the circus." Heero said it in a flat, conversational tone. Fortunately his hand was out, and he managed to snag the cup before Duo, shocked, dropped it on the futon. "Sammy came to L4 to tell me to keep an eye on Trowa. Take him out if he sabotages the job." 

"Fuck." Duo was now wide-awake, staring blindly at the pastry bag in his other hand. 

"Any way to warn Trowa, before he gets here?" Heero blew on the coffee and took a sip. "Does Hilde have a way to get a hold of him?" 

"Yeah, but that means emailing her, figuring out a coded way to say it, and hoping she understands what it means so she can tell Trowa." Duo shook his head. "If they're watching Trowa, they're probably watching Hilde's email, to see if she's aware of his real identity. Best to keep her in the dark for as long as possible." 

"Our silence could risk the real mission." 

"It'd risk more, if I accidentally outed Hilde to the syndicate." Duo held up his cup, pointing one finger at Heero. "It'd also incriminate you, since it'd be a clear sign that you talked to me, and I talked to Hilde..." 

Heero knew, but he didn't have to like it. He leaned over and fished one of the pastries from the bag. 

"That's it? Just, Trowa was in the circus, watch him?" 

"Of course not." Heero dug into his pocket and pulled out the romchip, handing it to Duo. "Sammy also gave me this. Since I don't have the technology to decrypt it, and I don't know the algorithms, I'm guessing he meant me to give it to you." 

Duo turned the romchip over his hand, and sighed. "I knew this job sounded too easy." Catching Heero's skeptical expression, Duo waved his other hand dismissively. "Not the waiting tables part. That's hell, definitely. But the real job ― get into the convention, listen to people talking, and get out? That's too low-key for a team like ours. Thing is, why'd they not tell us before now? Why send us in thinking that's all we'd need to do?" 

"Maybe it was, and something's changed. We've been here since the first of December. A lot can happen in a month and a half." 

"I guess. You moved the laptop in here?" Duo rubbed his forehead and crawled under the covers until his head reappeared at the bottom of the bed. Leaning over from the futon, he reached out and snagged his duffel bag from its spot by the wall and dragged it onto to the futon. Within a minute he'd set up the romchip decoder, attached it to the laptop, and started running the program. "All set. Depending on the size of the files, it may be done in two or three hours. Might be longer." 

Heero nodded and finished off the last of his pastry. 

Duo sipped his coffee and checked the romchip decryption program a last time. He turned to Heero. "So what was the purpose of breakfast in bed, anyway?" 

"We're out of coffee," Heero replied. 

"In that case, I've had my coffee, then I'll have my pastry, and then leave me alone so I can a few more hour's sleep." Duo stuck his lower lip out, and bit down on the pastry. 

Heero struggled not to smile at the alluring picture of Duo, half-asleep, attempting to pout. "I'll wake you at eleven," he offered, getting up from the futon. "And then you can fix me lunch to make up for being so cranky." 

Duo set the half-eaten pastry aside and arranged the covers around him. Looking up, he grinned at the young man standing in the bedroom doorway. "You gonna want dessert with that?" 

* * *

Bored, Heero realized the laundry was three days overdue. He made himself a quick lunch, and set the alarm for Duo as he quietly collected dirty clothes from the bedroom. He debated silently the possibility of going down to the laundry room later, but knew waiting until after lunch meant running the wash while the dryers were taken up with other people's loads. He didn't want to sit there while he waited, but clothes left unattended, in his experience, seemed to disappear. Sighing, he grabbed his latest book and trudged down to the apartment's first floor. If he was done in an hour, he could be back to enjoy a few hours of Duo's time before his roommate left for the hotel's second shift. 

When he returned, Duo was gone. A note was waiting on the countertop. Someone in the hotel's café had called in sick, and Duo had agreed to cover. Heero stared at the note for several seconds, then crumpled it into a ball and threw it in the trash, swearing under his breath. He ran a hand through his hair and glared at the basket of clean clothes at his feet. 

The decryption program didn't finish running until mid-afternoon. He contemplated opening the files, then decided to let Duo deal with it. Instead, he minimized the program and opened up a window for the hacker's forum. It had been three days since either of the pilots had checked in, but Heero didn't want to bother going down to the nearby bookstore and dealing with the colony's winter for the second time on his day off. 

Rat was chatting in the main window when the dove's wing avatar appeared. Pinky and Snake were present, and from the looks of things, were arguing over the merits of the new water-cooled circuit boards for the DF4500 series slimtops. 

"You can't crack the bios," Pinky was saying. The avatar wriggled its pigtails at Heero's avatar without breaking for pause in typing. "The whole value of the slimtops is portability. If you can't crack the bios, they're no good for vid-phone linking." 

"Why bother?" Snake's avatar hissed momentarily. "If you've got one of the RX34 palms, you can link that to any vid, jump in the public system for free, and it won't attract half as much attention as a slimtop." 

"The palms have storage of only six gig," Pinky retorted. 

"Ignore them," Rat told Heero. "They've been arguing about this for two days now." 

Heero grinned at the screen. "Any news on the files?" 

"About halfway done," the forum leader reported. "But I gotta tell ya, I'm not sure we're on the right track." 

"Oh?" 

"It just seems too straightforward." 

Pinky jumped in. "We ran the program revision you suggested, and no significant number strings have shown up in any of the emails. There's vid-phone numbers, social security numbers..." 

"A few credit card numbers," Snake added. "Morons." 

"We also ran a sort on the emails by destination, and there are plenty going to political persons and major companies on earth," Rat typed. "So we flagged those, as well. It's fascinating reading, sometimes, but it all looks like what lobbyists say to each other. Who's voting on what positions, gossip about who's sleeping with whom in the Council―" 

"―My favorite part," Snake commented. 

"I'm not sure what you're looking for." The rat avatar flicked its whiskers a few times. "We have our suspicions though, since Deathscythe asked about gun models and politicians. But we can't find anything of one, and too much of the other, and all of it pretty innocent-looking." 

"They might be speaking in code," Pinky suggested. "Talking about rutabagas to mean handguns, lettuce to mean ammunition. But we've run the program for common words appearing in the emails we flagged for source and destination, and there's no real consistency. And nothing unusual in word choices." 

Heero frowned, and stared at the screen for a long minute as he considered the situation. He was certain the hackers were right; they'd had their noses in the emails now for nearly three weeks. If anyone would be familiar with the content by now, and noticed any patterns, it would be the hackers, and he trusted them to be smart enough to discover something if it was there to be found. He doubted vid-phones were used for correspondence, given the difficulty of earth-to-space transmissions. Flying people back and forth would eventually alert someone, especially if those people were connected to the syndicate. Email was more reliable, and more secure. Unless, the little voice jeered, a team of bored teenage hackers were put on the job. Heero wondered what Quatre's team of hackers were finding, on their end. If his own team was any indication, he doubted Quatre had had much more success. 

"Any ideas?" Snake prompted. 

"Frankly, no," Heero replied. "Where's Mike?" 

"Doing homework," Pinky replied. The avatar shook like it was laughing. "Kid nearly lost that top grade Deathscythe faked for him." 

"Tell him to study harder," Heero typed. "Keep at organizing the rest of the emails into those categories, and we'll think on it from here. I'll get back in touch with you soon. Over and out." 

Heero logged off, and stared into the middle distance, his gaze unfocused, for several minutes. Finally getting up, he shrugged on his coat and headed out for the local bookstore. He'd explain the situation to Duo, and see if the man's unpredictable mind could come up with any ideas. In the meantime, he needed a distraction so his own mind could start to puzzle out how the syndicate could possibly be communicating with the President. 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamian. I do, however, own a carpet that's soaked with dog drool. Well, actually, only in the spot next to the tomato plant, because everything that was on my deck is now in my living room. This includes the large dog currently staring at the tomato plant. See, the hound likes tomatoes. I don't know how that started, but if I don't come up with some way to barricade my tomato plant in, I'm sure I'll walk back into the living room to find the dog has removed the season's last tomato batch and is eating them. She's done it before... so sue me, you can have the drool, the green tomatoes, and I might even throw the dog in for free. Geez. 

While we wait for CleverYoungThief, Okaasan, Presser, Porcelain, Czam, Zaz, Moffit, Casey Valhalla, and Koyote to pick themselves up off the carpet, dust themselves off, re-read, and faint again, I'll get on with the online reviews. Heh. 

Lainwyn: Glad to see someone agrees that the scene was a crucial turning point. It's not the end of the road, so you can relax... there's more to come, and just as things seemed to have settled down, Trowa's becoming an issue. Oops. 

Maldorer: I firmly believe in character development. Hopefully Heero has developed honestly and believably. Now it's time to see the fallout, even if there wasn't that much in this chapter. It's coming. Hehe. 

GoldenRat: Heero spent enough time working with Zero, which is why I don't refer to him as the Wing pilot, but as the Wing Zero pilot. That experience would've had a huge impression on him, I think. And it made sense that it would show up in his thought processes in problem-solving. 

Asuka Kureru: Woo, another fan, hitting the floor! Yes, I am on a roll! ;-) 

AlyRain: It's a process, and there's going to be a few more ups and downs. Actually, a major down in the next chapter, but I think I'll stop there. Wouldn't want to mislead anyone, but you know that explosion I keep threatening, where everyone dies? Ooh. 

Nlp: Blush away, I adore the response! Yes, hackers, but no Mike. He's got to do homework at some point. All that time working in a shoe store, leaves no time for school. But never fear, he's going to show up very soon. 

Dyna: Sure, I'd love to have Duo just up and be happy and all problems solved. But I doubt it's going to happen, and the real world keeps changing around them. Romchip, here we come. Brace yourself. 

Once again, thanks to everyone who takes the time to make a comment – this past chapter was a tough one to write, and I debated for hours over whether I was being true to the story that I'm trying to tell. Everyone had such supportive things to say, and I really appreciate hearing that my intentions succeeded without destroying the pacing or intent of the overall story. And now, onto the next chapter of Wolves! ;-) 


	36. opening the fist

**03 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

I caught a petal, fallen from a cherry tree, in my hand.  
Opening the fist  
I find nothing there.  
― Ryu Yotsuya 

Heero opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. The first thing he noticed was that the room was dark. The second thing he noticed was that his alarm had not gone off. And the third thing he noticed was that he was alone in bed. 

He sat up, pushing the blanket off him, and squinted at the clock. Almost two in the morning, standard time. He shoved down the jealous conclusion that Duo had gone out to a club again just as he realized there was a faint light flickering from the living room. A gut instinct, the same kind that had saved him many times during war, was goading him to get up and check. Wary, Heero silently moved from the bed to the doorway, wishing he still had a gun with him. He might not plan to shoot, but he sometimes missed the comfort of its weight in his hand. 

Heero was startled to see the laptop was on, a program running. Its blue light illuminated the small room, casting shadows behind the three floor pillows and a half-full bottle of beer. There was movement beyond them, and Heero glanced past to see Duo by the window. 

The longhaired man was standing at the window; his arms crossed, his feet braced shoulder-width apart. He wasn't moving, and Heero narrowed his eyes at the sight, unwilling to startle the other man. Instead Heero stepped forward, hoping the window would catch the reflection of his movement. Duo caught it and turned his head, just barely. One look, and Heero froze. 

In that split second Heero knew it wasn't Duo looking out from those deep blue eyes. It was Shinigami. The pose, the tilt of the head, the faint smile on Duo's lips, and his absolute stillness all came rushing into Heero's awareness. The Wing Zero pilot checked his movement, studying Duo's faintly rapacious expression, not even allowing his chest to move as he exhaled through his nose. 

The laptop beeped. 

Neither young man moved, but the moment had passed, and Duo's cold smile was swiftly replaced with a gentler expression. He turned in place, and kicked one leg behind him to prop himself against the wall. His voice was husky when he spoke, lowered in the dark room. "Did I wake you?" 

"No," Heero replied quietly. Stepping forward, he glanced down at the laptop, then picked up the bottle and downed the last swallow. It was still cold. "I saw the light from the laptop, though." 

"I've been reviewing the romchip files." 

"What do they say?" His question was rewarded with a raised eyebrow. Heero shrugged. "Figured you'd want first look." Uncomfortable under Duo's piercing gaze, Heero looked away. He wasn't sure how to express the feeling he'd had that it was Duo's mission, and therefore Duo should be the first to see the job parameters. It didn't make the most sense, logically, the small voice pointed out, and Heero scowled mentally. He'd promised to stay, but he'd also promised to follow Duo's command. 

"Thanks," Duo said dryly. He stretched, an economical tensing and relaxing of his chest and legs. He didn't fidget, nor did he uncross his arms. In the little light from the laptop, Heero could see the glint reflecting from Duo's eyes, and the sight chilled him. 

Heero waited, silent, unmoving. 

"The mission's changed," Duo said. Heero could feel Duo's eyes on him. "The L4 syndicate refused a preliminary meeting with the interstellar syndicate. We're already in place, so we're the ones to deliver the punishment. We're to take out at least two floors of the convention center. We're to aim for the highest amount of property damage we can manage, without torching the entire establishment." 

"Controlled burn." Heero's voice was steady, dropping automatically into mission mode. 

Duo nodded, a curt movement of his shadow against the wall. "There's more. There is a list of items that several L4 syndicate operatives always travel with, and we're to get those. Mostly technology-related. Disks, palmtops, a slimtop or two. L2 bosses want the information on those disks. If we can get it and don't take the hardware, that's fine. They just want what's in the files." 

"That's all?" Heero was almost positive it wasn't. 

"No." Duo didn't say anything else, and the silence stretched out for several heartbeats before Duo began to speak, a chilling sound in its calmness. "We have six targets. The names, pictures, and general identification information are in the laptop files. From what I can gather, these are all wives, lovers, or friends of L4 businessmen, and they are all expected to be present. Not all of the L4 businessmen are syndicate-related, but they're all powerful, and they all...in some way...have blocked the alliance between the L4 syndicate and the interstellar syndicates." 

"Six targets." Heero's blood was turning to ice, matching the sound of Duo's voice. 

"Including Iria Winner Marlowe." 

"Oh, god..." 

The soft cry was nearly a moan, and Heero struggled to keep from sinking to his knees. His fingers curled into fists, even as his mind battered at the oath he'd sworn. But he was trained for this. Of the four of them, he was the only one who could carry out six targets, each with increasing difficulty. An amateur could manage one or two, but six, picked out of a crowded party, would be impossible for any but an expert. Five years since he'd promised to never kill again, but of the pilots, he was the assassin. 

You told Duo to make a choice, the small voice sighed. Look what kind of choice you have to make in return. 

Heero flinched when he realized Duo was standing in front of him. The thief could still move with stealth to catch even Heero off-guard, and Heero closed his eyes, focusing on keeping his breathing steady. There was a soft touch on his arm, and when he didn't react, a second touch on the other arm, firmer this time. When Heero opened his eyes, Duo took the beer bottle and stepped away. Holding the bottle up as he stared at it, Duo spoke over his shoulder. 

"If I thought it would work, I'd ask you to hit me." Duo snorted. "And then I'd lay you flat out and dump you on the first shuttle back to L1." 

"Duo." Heero's voice was a quiet threat. 

"You didn't sign up for this," Duo continued, as if Heero hadn't spoken. "It would be for your own good. You have a successful career. I don't want you risking that." 

"Duo," Heero repeated, a little sterner. 

"But I won't," Duo said, that strange frozen smile slipping into his voice. "If I did, your absence alone would compromise our team. And with Trowa under suspicion now, we can't risk more questions being raised. So we're both stuck." He swirled the bottle a few more times, as if admiring the way the laptop's blue light hit the amber glass. "Enny, Hilde, and Jeet will place listening devices the first day of the conference, and keep their ears open the rest of the time, just like we originally planned. I'll do the thefts, and place some of the explosives as I go. I'll need you to place the rest, and to supervise the three civilians. I'll also need you to make sure they're out of the way when everything goes down. Trowa will take out the targets." 

"No." Heero paused, swallowed hard, and shook his head. "No. I was trained for this. Six targets will be impossible for―" 

"I don't want to hear it." Duo's voice was icy. He strode to the kitchen, and dropped the beer in the trashcan. It hit with a thud, an echo of finality. "I know the promise you made. We all know it. None of us expect you to go back on that." 

"There's got to be..." He shook his head again. His fists were clenched at his sides. Half of him wanted to argue, knowing if his skills weren't applied they risked botching the entire job. The other half railed against the notion of killing six innocent bystanders, the very people they were trying to protect and save in the first place. "There's got to be," he said again, and couldn't figure out how to finish the sentence. 

"There isn't," the Deathscythe pilot replied. "If we could have stopped the war, either war, with the death of six people, would you have done it?" Duo leaned against the kitchen countertop, his arms crossed as he stared towards the window. "I would have. I wouldn't have hesitated for a second. Hilde started this to find out who killed Joe, but it's bigger than that. When Mariemaia took over, she did it through force and intimidation. We could respond with that, and we did. But now...someone is doing the same thing, but with stealth, and quiet corruption. The syndicates, allied, pushing their agenda...with the President backing them. Between all of them, they're tying the hands of the only remaining peacekeeping force in the Earth Sphere. I think six deaths are a small price to pay if it gets us towards our goal of untying that knot." 

Heero gritted his teeth, then sighed, the tension flowing from his body, replaced by the calm silent center of his training. Duo was right. The bigger picture was what mattered. Six deaths would be a small price in comparison. But of them all, Heero decided, better he carry it, better he pull the trigger. 

"You can't ask Trowa to kill Quatre's sister," Heero finally said. 

"I don't have much choice. I would do it myself, but none of you have my skills for theft." Duo shrugged almost imperceptibly. It was a casually vicious gesture. "He was trained, same as us. He'll understand." 

Heero was tempted to ask if Quatre also would understand, but the remoteness inside him told him that on some level, Quatre would pull the trigger himself if it achieved a greater good. It was the way they'd fought, during the war, and it was a way of seeing that would never leave them. Sighing, he rubbed his forehead, suddenly cold to the bone. 

"Get some sleep," Duo ordered, but his tone was not unkind. "I'll be calling in sick tomorrow. We have a meeting with a smuggler at five." Duo paused, and when Heero didn't move, he added softly, "I'll be up a little longer." There was a rustling sound as the longhaired man's chin sunk to his chest, his arms crossed. A dismissive action. 

Numb, Heero nodded, returning to bed without another word. It was a long time, however, before he could shut his mind down long enough to drift at the edge of sleep. And it was only once Duo came to bed, reaching out with fingertips to touch his hand, that Heero could let himself fall into true sleep. 

For the first time in years, he dreamt of blood. 

* * *

Work went by in a daze of dishes and wine glasses. In the early morning hotel rush, Heero had managed to push the mission change to the back of his mind. Without the restaurant's constant distraction, though, the awareness came barreling back at him full-force. Duo's words kept echoing in his skull, and Heero unlocked the apartment door with a barely-repressed sigh. 

_If I thought it would work, I'd ask you to hit me. And then I'd lay you flat out and dump you on the first shuttle back to L1._

The sole fact stopping Duo seemed to be that Heero's absence would raise the syndicate's eyebrows, and they couldn't afford that. Heero wondered if Duo would have thrown him out if the other man had thought the syndicate wouldn't care. It wasn't that he thought Duo didn't want him there. A part of him feared that, but another part was mildly hopeful that Duo would want him, and need him, during the mission regardless of personal feelings. What bothered him most, though, was simply the awareness that his own misguided attempts at protecting Duo in the past had not been forgotten, and clearly not forgiven. 

He shoved away the regrets and unspoken explanations pounding in his head, vaguely noticing that Duo was sitting on the floor, staring at the laptop. Heero dropped his keys on the countertop, shrugged off his coat, hung it up, and headed into the bathroom with only a raised half-wave at Duo. 

Fifteen minutes later he was showered, and dressed in casual black jeans and a white button up-shirt. He returned to the living room, seating himself across from Duo, and began putting on his socks. 

"I've got a list of what we'll need," Duo said, turning the laptop so Heero could see it. "Spent the morning reviewing the plans for the convention center and the hotel. We'll take out the fifteenth and sixteenth floors, specifically the rotunda, the main suites, and the arboretum. In terms of financial damage, the hotel-top gardens alone are worth more than most of this sector." 

"True." Heero scanned the shopping list. Duo's work, as always, was thorough. Sometimes too thorough. "Thirty-two C4 packs? For the square footage, we'll only need twenty." The list included a sniper rifle, five semi-automatic forty-fives, fifteen magazines, and ammunition for all of them. Duo had also listed two flame-throwers. Heero blinked. "Flame-throwers?" 

Duo grinned. "Why not?" 

"Duo." The Wing Zero pilot rolled his eyes, reread the list once more, and stood up. "Where's the meeting?" 

"Sector Two. You ready?" 

When Heero nodded, Duo shut down the laptop and stood up as well. He was dressed in his customary black jeans and black shirt, and pulled on his long black coat. Heero slipped into his boots, tied the laces around the heels, and grabbed his leather jacket. He was startled when Duo turned at the last minute, pinning Heero against the wall. There was a quick pressure of lips, and Heero opened his mouth, moaning softly as Duo pressed up against him, pushing a leg between his. They rocked against each other for a quiet moment, Duo's tongue battering at his, the taste of spice and mint mingling in their mouths, then Deathscythe's pilot pulled away with a quick Cheshire grin. 

"Let's go shopping," Duo said, and led the way from the apartment. 

* * *

The taxi dropped them off in the colony's warehouse district. Large buildings lined the broad street, their bay doors opening directly onto the street. Most of the buildings housed manufacturing, shipping, and mechanical businesses, with the upper floors for offices, storage, and other businesses like escort services, accountants, and computer technicians. Duo glanced up and down the afternoon street, nodded to Heero, and led the way to a large door to one side of a mechanic's garage. The sign on the door said Consolidated Atlantic Shipping in badly lettered Japanese kanji, with Russian, Hindi and English underneath. Leading the way, Duo pounded up the three flights of stairs, a strange half-smile playing on his lips as he whistled tunelessly under his breath. Behind him, Heero glared at the braid flapping against Duo's back. 

Ridiculous looking thing, he thought. And yet, it was a single picture of Trowa that had rendered the acrobat instantly recognizable. Heero distinctly recalled the images of Duo being arrested during the war, five years ago. Yet all this time no one in the syndicate had thought to put together that teenage braid-wearing fool with this older braid-wearing fool. Heero sighed as Duo opened the stairwell doors and led them down the hallway. 

"Four-oh-seven," Duo whispered under his breath, then smiled widely. "Here we are." He shoved the door open with his hip and led the way in, his manner causal and charming as he called out a hello. 

Heero stepped in behind Duo, his eyes taking in the entire office in a single sweep. It only partially registered on him their reflection in the window opposite, and he was momentarily amused to consider that to an ignorant observer they would appear like two kids fresh out of college. Duo was in his traditional black; his chestnut thatch of bangs masking those deep blue eyes, with that perpetually cheerful smile on his lips. Heero's face was studiously blank. His dark brown hair fell in clumps across his face, a tousled contrast to the tailored white shirt, tight black jeans, and slim leather jacket. 

The office wasn't much larger than their own living room, filled to capacity with a paper-covered desk, three straight-back chairs, and boxes piled up against the walls between overflowing filing cabinets. A second door along the left wall was ajar. A laptop sat on the desk, open, and the printer nearby was almost hidden under stacks of papers. A broken clock sat on one end of the desk, blinking the wrong time at them. There was a crash from the room next door, and a grunt as someone pushed the door open. A stack of papers appeared first, followed by a man as wide as he was tall. He looked at them over the tops of his reading glasses, grunted again, and stumped across to the desk. Dumping the armload of papers on the nearest open space, he sighed and looked them over as the two young men studied him in return. 

His skin was a dark shade, reminiscent of southern Asia, and his eyes were a dark brown under a salt-and-pepper shock of short hair. The man's face was creased from age and space-burn, but his thick fingers, resting on the paper stack, were steady and strong. There were sweat stains under the armpits of his faded gray t-shirt, and he scratched absently at his belly as he waited for them to speak. 

Duo seated himself in one of the chairs and motioned to the man with a hand. 

"Take a load off," Duo said, and leaned back. "Pops sent us." 

"Oh, right," the man replied, and his voice was a deep growl. "The kids from L2. Which of you is Waters?" 

Duo tipped an invisible hat at the man, and grinned. Heero ignored the second chair and closed the office door behind him, leaning against a filing cabinet. He crossed his arms, but kept his body loose, ready for anything. Duo, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease. 

"From the way you were described, I thought you'd be taller," the man said. "Name's Frank. You're here because..." He let the question hang. 

"We want to cook a gourmet meal, and heard no one can beat you for quality tomatoes," Duo drawled. 

Frank leaned over behind the desk, opening and closing several drawers. Heero tensed, but relaxed minimally as the man brought out a short metallic cylinder. He tossed it to Duo, who caught it one-handed, looked it over, nodded, and tossed it back. As Frank set it up in the middle of the desk, Heero recognized it as an item similar to the field dampener that Duo had used back on L2. It was a larger, less complex piece of mechanics than the one Duo had built, but Duo had seemed to find it acceptable. With another grunt, Frank surveyed the flashing lights, then settled himself into the chair behind the desk. 

"What's on your grocery list?" 

"Thirty-two C4 packs. One AR-15, five Kimber forty-five's, fifteen magazines, and ammunition for each. And two flame-throwers," Duo added, that cold grin flitting across his face as he ticked the list off on his fingers. 

The man whistled and scrubbed at his hair. "Flame-throwers? Now that's one I haven't heard before. Not since the war, at least. How good's your credit?" 

"I'll give you an account to charge when you prove you can provide everything." 

"I can provide it, kid, don't you worry about that." Frank grinned, a lopsided look on his dark face. "Any modifications on the sniper rifle?" 

"Don't exchange the AR-15's regular barrel for one of those stupid long ones, and modify the back stock like an XM177," Duo said, as if simply discussing the weather. "Won't need a bipod. I like the XM177E2 style modifications. I want a four-by-twenty millimeter cross hair, on a scope mount rail. I recommend filing the cocking handle to a t-shape. Put an M16A2 grip on it, too." 

"That all?" 

Duo appeared to think, then grinned. "I want it to take NPFC or CP-HW cartridges." 

"I think I can do the CP-HW. If you really want the NPFC, it may take a few days. When's your dinner date?" 

"January 27," Heero said. 

Duo nodded. "But we'll want it all in place twenty-four hours prior." 

"Of course," Frank replied smoothly. "And the Kimbers? Rare puppies. You set on that? I've got some Kotangs. Just came in last week." He leaned over to one of the boxes, and dragged it towards him. "They're surplus, from Sanq, before the standing army was disbanded during the Colony wars. The M1911A1 is a recoil-operated, semiautomatic, magazine-fed, self-loading handgun with fixed sights. Nice pieces of work, actually." 

"Sanq," Duo repeated, watching the man dig through the box. "Never fired, dropped only once." 

"Something like that," Frank replied, and laughed. It sounded like a Vernier engine firing up, the chuckling rumble echoing deep in his belly. "Here's one." He set a platinum-scored pistol on the desk, and pushed it towards Duo, the barrel facing the wall. Heero stepped forward without thinking, taking the gun in one hand and hefting it for a moment. 

The room was silent, the two men watching as Heero methodically field stripped the weapon. He cocked the hammer, depressed the recoil spring plug and turned the barrel bushing clockwise one-quarter turn. There was a pause as he let the tension spring expand, then he flipped the recoil spring plug counterclockwise and removed it. His fingers flew across the metal surface, his face remaining as indifferent as it had been through the whole discussion. 

Heero pulled the slide back, pushing it out from right to left, then flipped the gun upside down and drew the receiver to the rear, disengaging it. His hands cradled the gun even as he drew the recoil spring and its guide out of the slide, then removed the barrel bushing by turning it counterclockwise until he could lift it out. Twitching his head a little to get his hair out of his eyes, Heero seemed to barely pay attention, moving by rote. His fingers pulled the barrel out of the muzzle end and removed the firing pin with a fingernail. Carefully easing the firing pin out until the mainspring tension eased, he pried the extractor from the rear of the slide. 

Pausing, Heero surveyed the gun's parts with a critical eye, then reassembled the entire unit in half the time it had taken him to take it apart. When he set the gun solidly back down on the desk and nodded curtly, Duo yawned in response. Frank's eyebrows were up to his hairline, glancing at his watch. The entire process had taken Heero fifty-three seconds. 

"I take it you know what you're doing," Frank finally said. 

"It was never in doubt," Duo replied smugly. The longhaired man cut his eyes sideways at Heero, who gave an imperceptible shrug. The Wing Zero pilot had noticed a weakness in the mainspring housing pin. The left stock was also too heavy, and would pull the gun to the side unless the user was used to the imbalance. Duo's eyes rested on the gun for a second, flicking up to Heero again with an understanding glance, then the deep blue eyes were resting on Frank again. "Don't like the Kotang," he announced, a distant smile gracing his features. "We'll stick with quality." 

The old man sighed and leaned forward on the desk, and pushed a few papers around with one hand as he leaned his cheek on his other fist. There was a pause as he deliberated, and Duo's narrow smile never wavered. Finally the man waved his hand, agreeing to the silent demand. 

"Fine, have it your way, but that means dealing with some major assholes. Just warning you." Frank leaned over, grabbing the gun and shoving it back into the box before he stood up with a cracking sound. "Damn knees," he muttered, and came around the desk. "Follow me...There's some L4 guys, non-syndicate, who run some real nice stuff. I think you're in luck, cause I think one of their reps got here from Earth this afternoon. One of the guys was telling me they're expecting some Kimbers, maybe some Rugers." 

"Flame-throwers?" Duo asked hopefully, getting up as Frank opened the office door. 

"Don't think so," the man said, and grinned. "Could I interest you in water balloons instead?" 

"A man after my own heart," Duo sighed. "But I'd rather have flame-throwers." 

* * *

The short man led them to another office down the fourth-floor corridor, near the back of the building. The office door was open slightly, and there were the sounds of several people talking inside. Their voices were deep and musical, and it took Heero a second to register that they weren't speaking English. 

Frank rapped sharply on the door with his knuckles, and then pushed the door open. "Get to work, you lazy Colony scum," he called, his face breaking into a grin as he shook hands with one of the men by the door. The stranger was nearly as swarthy as Frank, but topped Heero by an inch or two. His jet-black hair was almost blue under the office lights, and his dark brown eyes were wide and friendly. 

"Frank, what are you dragging in now?" The man leaned past Frank to look at Duo, then Heero, his gaze measuring for a second before the open expression returned. "Blue. Nice to meet you." He stuck out his hand, which Duo shook, and Heero ignored. 

"Blue, leave 'em alone, they're cool," Frank ordered from behind the taller man. 

Blue shrugged, stepping out of the doorway to let them in. He grinned at Heero, who stared indifferently. Duo nodded to a second tall man sitting on a tattered sofa, who looked like Blue's twin brother and introduced himself as Red. A third man, by the window, turned with a printout in his hand, and introduced himself as Green. 

"Where's Purple and Orange," Duo asked, his eyebrows raised. 

"Delivering groceries," Frank said with a laugh, pointing Duo to one of the few empty chairs in the room. 

Heero leaned against the wall by the door, only his eyes moving as he took in the rest of the room. There were two doors, leading to other offices, and he could hear movement behind one. Duo seated himself, and kicked his feet up on the desk, crossing his ankles as he leaned back, looking for all the world like he was perfectly at home. 

Frank settled himself on another open chair and leaned over to Blue, who had moved to sit on the arm of the sofa next to Red. "These kids want a pile o' forty-fives," the grizzled Indian explained. "Ammunition to boot, and if you've got it, throw in a few flame-throwers. My treat." 

"No flame-throwers, old man," Blue said, and Heero was again startled to hear the rounded accent, and the soft lilt in the words. It seemed familiar, somehow, but he couldn't place it right away. Blue grinned at Duo and shook his head. "But we can do the forty-fives, no problem. Got some Kimbers in this afternoon." 

"Rugers?" Duo asked. 

"No," Blue replied, and shrugged. "We can do special order. How long can you wait?" 

"We've got fourteen days to deadline." Duo scratched his head, and flipped his braid around to the front as he got comfortable in the chair. "Twelve, actually, since we'll want delivery on site prior to the day." 

"That'll cost extra." 

"We can pay." 

Blue glanced at Frank, who nodded. Satisfied, the man leaned back and patted his hand against one of the side doors. "Hey, boss-man, we've got company." He leaned back, nudging Red and the two men shared a grin. Blue gave an apologetic look to Duo and Heero. "Jehshe's a little strange, but he's reliable. Got here just an hour ago." 

"Run into any trouble?" Frank asked, a little too innocently. 

"Of course not," Green interjected. "If he had, we would've come to visit you first thing. We pay you too much to keep customs quiet." 

"And here I thought you just liked me for my looks," Frank replied. The men laughed, and Heero was distracted for a moment, until he realized another man was standing on the side door's threshold. He was as tall as Heero, dressed casually in a crisp white t-shirt and tight blue jeans. Heero noted distantly that the stranger was wearing black Chinese slippers, even as his gaze swiftly traveled back up the stranger's body to his face. The man's jet-black hair was long and loose, several stray locks reaching to his chest. The rest was tucked behind his ears, and he was wearing a small pair of reading glasses. The man pulled them off with an apologetic smile, and bowed to Duo and Heero, a brusque formal movement. 

Heero checked his reaction. Pulse and respiration normal, and he stole a glance at the Deathscythe pilot. Duo was regarding the man with undisguised curiosity, but no familiarity. Heero's glance was pulled back as the stranger spoke, introducing himself. 

"Zhishi Long," Wufei said. His light tenor voice was a smooth and lightly accented with a British cadence, a stark contrast to the heavily accented men now flanking him as he stood by the door. "I understand you're here to do business." 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamian. I do, however, own a tarot deck that's done in the style of Bosch. Not the car parts company, but the wacky Renaissance artist. Sue me, and you can have the deck. It gives me the creeps. 

Now, while we wait for Casey Valhalla to pick herself up off the floor – she got to read the first section as a teaser, in thanks for the fact that she's previously bestowed first-looks at her story, Glory, which I highly recommend. Now, let's get on with the responses, shall we? 

GoldenRat: Good catch. I was wondering when someone would pick up on Trowa being undercover in the circus. Thing is, the syndicates get nervous if you were doing something and they don't know about it. It's the not-knowing that bugs them. Sort of like the Feds' response when you go for a security rating... 

Lainwyn: Boy, now you've got some questions answered... is that your screaming I hear? Ah, yes, the evil writer strikes again. I love this job! 

Asuka Kureru: Yes, the hackers will make an appearance in the next chapter, I think. Depends on how long the next big scene takes. If it hits too long, then the hackers will get pushed back a little. But don't worry, they're waiting in the wings with some news. ;-) 

Maldoror: I tried to set it up at the beginning of the L4 stint, that the L2 syndicate isn't in alliance with L4, and so doesn't have access or means to really keep its employees under surveillance. Note that L2 thinks Heero is their "inside guy," which explains how Duo can be spending time so far away from surveillance and the fact isn't giving the L2 syndicate nightmares. 

Shinimegami82: Getting stuff down is always the hardest part. Set a time and place that you always write, and that helps. Plus I like to think in terms of word count. It sounds silly, but I check the word count and tell myself, "I'll do two thousand words and then take a break." It's like, woo, I did two thousand words! I achieved something! Even if those words all get cropped in the next revision, it was still a productive day by my standards. 

Also, many thanks to the rest of the peanut gallery who keep cheering me on: Koyote, CleverYoungThief, Arithkenshin, and Moffit. I know I got this one out faster than expected, but I got on a role while taking a day's break from Wolves. Hehehe... now I think I shall make everyone wait while I make up for neglecting Wolves by doing two chapters. Or not. We'll have to see... 


	37. so receive me brother

**03 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

I can feel myself fading away  
So receive me brother with your faithless kiss  
or will we leave each other alone like this  
― Bruce Springsteen 

"He's got a whole list," Frank was saying, and Heero's gaze swept the room a third time. 

Wufei was standing by the door, with Blue and Red on one side. Green hadn't moved from the window at Wufei's other side, and the man smiled as he turned his back on the room to continue reading the printout in his hands. Heero's gaze measured each, carefully, nonchalantly, before putting the pieces in place. Maganacs. 

Of course, the small voice whispered, who else would be so firmly entrenched that they could run under the radar of the L4 syndicate? 

"Frank said he can get us the modified AR-15," Duo told Wufei with an expansive grin. "And the C4. But we need five Kimbers, fifteen magazines, and the ammunition for each, plus more if you've got it." 

Wufei nodded, and glanced at Frank, a question in his eyes. The old Indian chuckled, a deep rumbling sound, and grinned as he leaned back in his chair. 

"Guess I'll get Tom's group to do the mods on the sniper," he told no one in particular. "I'll peruse the docks and pick up the rest in small batches. Satisfied?" He slanted a grin at the Asian man, who nodded again. 

"We'll do the handguns, then," Wufei replied, his gaze falling on Duo, who hadn't moved. "If you would step into my office," he said, stepping aside with a small gesture of welcome. 

"Said the spider to fly," Duo drawled, coming to his feet in a smooth move. It was a simple act, an uncurling of muscles, but it hinted at more. The careless power wasn't lost on the watching men, and Heero could feel the tension in the room shifting as the players reevaluated each other. Heero waited until Duo had strolled past, and fell in behind him. Wufei followed, with Blue and Red in tow. Outside, Green was speaking softly to Frank, who replied with another belly laugh. 

The side office was spartan, holding only a long conference table and several chairs. A briefcase was set at one end, a closed laptop next to it. Beside those was a metal carrying box. Wufei snapped the clasps on the box and flipped the top up. Silently he lifted out a Kimber 1911AX, setting it on the table and moving away. Again, Heero automatically stepped forward to field strip it thoroughly while Duo settled himself at the other end of the table. When Heero was done reassembling the unit, he hefted it in his hand for a few seconds, and then nodded thoughtfully. Duo caught the look, and smiled at Wufei, a pleased iciness. 

"Acceptable," he said. 

Wufei appeared to be thinking, then nodded. "Forty-five hundred credits, for everything." 

"That's only enough for one box of ammunition. Make it two." 

The Chinese man shrugged. A lock of black hair fell forward, down his chest like a streak of ink on the white T-shirt. "Forty-six hundred credits, then." 

"Done." Duo pulled a sheet of paper from his coat pocket and slid it across the table. Wufei opened it, glanced down at the numbers written there, and nodded. 

"I'll charge this tonight," Wufei told Duo. "Location?" 

"We're still determining the best drop point. One of us will let you know as soon as we decide." 

"Good. Anything else?" 

"Not that I can think of," Duo replied, and grinned. "But if you have some coffee, that'd be great." 

"I don't drink coffee," came the solemn answer. There was a strange pause, and the room held its breath. 

"Too bad. You're missing out." Duo's head lolled to the side, breaking the mood. His eyes were wintry despite the cheerful expression. Shrugging, he stood, and nodded to Heero. "Let's go, before all the taxis tuck themselves in for the night." 

"One of my men can―" 

"No, really," Duo said, tossing a hand over his shoulder in a half-wave as he headed for the office door. "Wouldn't want to inconvenience you." 

Heero gave Wufei and the other two men a single curt nod, and followed Duo from the room. The outside office was empty, and the two didn't speak as they departed. Two blocks away they flagged down a taxi, and remained silent the rest of the way back to the apartment. 

* * *

The kitchen light was on, and its yellow tones cast a strange pallor over the apartment as Duo fixed dinner. Heero sniffed, and couldn't help his stomach growling. Duo's Indian curry seemed appropriate, after the afternoon's meeting. 

"Duo," he said, before realizing the thief couldn't hear him over the sizzling pan. Getting up, Heero made his way to the small kitchen and leaned against the end cabinet. "Duo," he said again, waiting until the other man nodded. "Why'd you ask Wufei for coffee? I've never seen him drink it." 

"Oh, that," Duo replied with a shrug. "It's an old joke...it's supposed to be, at least." He seemed uncomfortable. 

"And?" 

"I spent my spring breaks in college on Earth, staying with Wufei or Quatre," Duo said. His concentration was on the paneer bubbling in the deep oil, and he took a second to check it before continuing. "We had a running thing, Wufei and I. I'd ask him out for coffee, and he'd say he didn't drink it. Then he'd offer me tea, and I'd say I didn't want any. Then one of us would order beers for both. Kirin for me, Qing Dao for him." 

Heero was temporarily distracted by the new information. "You drink Kirin?" 

"When I can get it." 

Wufei hadn't offered tea in reply, Heero thought. He wasn't sure if it was because of the situation, and the cautiousness it provoked, but Duo's offer now made more sense. It had been a try at a peace offering, and it appeared to have been refused. The realization prompted a wave of sorrow in the photographer, and he sighed as he crossed his arms and stared at the living room, so devoid of personality. The laptop's sparkling screen saver caught his eye, reminding him. 

"I talked to the hackers the other day," he announced. 

"And?" There was a splashing sound as Duo rinsed the spinach. 

"Rat thinks it's all a dead end. They're more than halfway through the headers by now, and have run searches on every possible variation of word choices. No significant number strings, no repeating words or phrases. He described it as mostly noise made by lobbyists, although it does demonstrate a great deal of interaction between L2 parties and the Council's ISP." 

Duo nodded, and began spooning the paneer from the oil, setting it on a cloth napkin to drain. 

"We're missing something," Heero admitted quietly. "I don't think it's feasible for the connection to be on vid-phone." 

"Too many holes in the security in vid-phones," Duo agreed. 

"And flying people back and forth to relay messages is too risky." 

"Not to mention time-consuming, and puts a delay in any action, and it's fuckin' expensive. Do you like your curry hot? I'm in the mood for really spicy tonight." 

"Hot's fine," Heero replied, and chewed his lower lip as he contemplated the hackers' report. "The hackers were saying they're sure they're missing something. I know what they mean. It's like it's something so obvious, that it's right in front of our noses..." 

"Have you ever wondered about that expression?" Duo tossed a grin over his shoulder at the dark-haired man, and went back to chopping the spinach. Leaning over, he took a minute to stir the rice. "You'd think a nose would be an annoying thing, right there. Unable to avoid it, because, hey, right between your eyes. It should get in the way, but it's the sort of thing..." His voice trailed off. 

Heero glanced over to see Duo frozen over the spinach, the knife raised in his hand, forgotten. Duo's lips slowly curled, pulling back not in a grin but a grimace, even as his eyes brightened. 

"Shit." 

"What?" Heero frowned, uncertain. 

"Fuck. I can't believe it." 

"Duo," Heero said, a little louder. 

Duo rounded on him, knife in his hand, then blinked, looked at the knife, and set it on the countertop. His eyes were shining, and his entire face was lit up in delight. "Heero, Heero, it's the _spam_." 

"Spam?" The Wing Zero pilot raised his eyebrows, feeling incredibly stupid. 

"The fuckin' advertisements, the shit we said wasn't important. No one pays attention to it...and neither did we." 

"Holy..." The phrase was cut off as Heero blinked, staring at Duo. A smile started to spread across his face, and he grinned widely, then began to laugh. 

Duo pointed at Heero, gaping. "You're laughing." 

"Yeah, and?" Heero laughed harder at Duo's shock, leaning against the cabinet for support. 

"Fuck, wonders never cease," Duo choked out, shaking his head as he continued to laugh. "And you laugh loud, too." 

"Fuck you," Heero replied. He tried to snort indignantly, but it came out wrong and they both laughed harder. Suddenly Heero's nose twitched, and he glanced past Duo. "Dinner's burning, I think." 

"Shit!" Duo spun in place and yanked the pot of spinach from the burner. "Oh, damn, that's hot!" Yelping, he dropped the pot on an unlit burner and turned, thrusting his hand under the sink at the same time he turned the cold water on. "Shit, shit, shit," he cried. "Stop laughing, you bastard, I think I burnt my hand." 

Heero grinned, doing his best to stifle the chuckles. Duo wriggled his fingers under the water, checking his palm thoroughly, and Heero started laughing again. "For crying out loud, Duo, you've been through war, and you're moaning over one first-degree burn?" Heero shook his head, and barely ducked in time to avoid the sponge Duo threw. 

"To hell with you," the young man retorted, but he was grinning. "You are such an asshole." 

"But I'm your asshole," Heero replied, stepping away from the kitchen a few feet in case Duo decided to retaliate further. 

"Yeah, and don't you forget it," Duo told him smartly. "Now leave me alone so I can bind my wounds and finish dinner." 

"Have it your way." The dark-haired man grinned, trying to hide the sudden flip-flop of his stomach at Duo's words, and the way fire had shot straight to his groin. It was an unexpected feeling, but pleasurable nonetheless. He blinked, then grinned again, rewarded with a mock-glare from Duo. 

"Set the floor while you're over there, would you?" 

"Aye, aye, captain," Heero said, and started laughing again when Duo nearly dropped the rice in shock. 

* * *

Dinner wasn't a quiet affair, but the only conversation consisted of various curses and gasps as each young man reached for their beers between nearly every bite. Duo was grinning widely, despite his eyes watering badly. 

"See, that's hot," he told Heero, who looked pained. 

"I'm going to hate you later," Heero informed Duo, who sputtered in response. 

"That's gross, Heero." 

"It's the truth." 

"It's still gross." 

Heero rolled his eyes and finished off the last of his beer, wiping his mouth with back of his hand. Pushing the empty plate away from him, he leaned back on his hands and sighed. 

"Want me to log on?" 

When Duo nodded, Heero pulled the laptop over and fired it up. A minute later he was in the hacker's forum. Rat, Snake, Pinky and Mike were present, along with Snappy and Rosie. Heero waved the dove's wing avatar at them, and started typing. Duo scooted over to sit closer, watching the scroll as Heero explained Duo's theory. The hackers were silent for a moment, thinking about it. 

"Hide in plain sight," Rat finally replied. 

"Exactly," Heero typed, giving the laptop a crooked grin. "Did you save any of the spam?" 

"Zipped and set aside," Snappy said. "I'll upload a batch now, if you want to take a look." 

Duo leaned over and poked Heero in the side, eliciting a squeak from the startled dark-haired man. It was immediately followed by a scowl as the thief fell over, laughing again. 

"Duo, be serious," Heero chided, trying to keep the grin off his face. 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Download the file already." 

"It's downloading." Heero made room for Duo to watch. When the file was complete, Heero clicked on it, opening a batch of several hundred emails. He then moved aside at Duo's nudge, and let the other man take over. 

"Deathscythe here," Duo typed into the hacker's window. "I'm going to take a look. Be back shortly." He logged off, and started perusing the email files, opening, scanning, and closing them one at a time, huddled over the keyboard. 

"What are you looking for?" Heero leaned over, curious. 

"Don't know yet." Duo's braid slid across his shoulder to hit the floor. He flipped it back over his shoulder with a muttered curse and kept skimming files. 

Heero nodded and took their plates to the kitchen. When he was done washing the dishes, Duo was still typing rapidly, his face intent on the screen as his fingers flew across the keyboard. Heero shook his head and began on the pots, then dried everything and put it away. Duo was still typing, so Heero headed into the bathroom and cleaned the sink, toilet, and shower. Coming back out, he realized thirty minutes had passed. Shaking his head, he returned to the living room with two beers. Duo took one, drank a long swallow, and then put it back down with a sigh. 

"Thanks," he whispered, snatching a quick kiss. "That hit the spot. The beer, and the kiss." Duo grinned, and sat back so Heero could see the screen. Sixteen email windows were open. Heero looked them over, and frowned. 

"They're all gibberish." 

"Right," Duo said, an impish look on his heart-shaped face. "Some programs create advertisements automatically. You put in the information, the intended recipients, and the email is created for you. Sometimes the programs backfire or are mangled by servers, and the result comes out complete nonsense. Most people ignore them, just as they'd ignore any other email. And sometimes spam looks like that because it's expecting your email reader to use a different encoding for the characters, like Eastern instead of Western." 

"You think there's something in there?" 

"I know there is." Duo hit a few keys, and a second window opened. He typed a series of commands, copied an email's content into the window, and hit return. There was a pause, and a series of lines appeared. Heero's blue eyes went wide as he stared at the message. One sentence jumped out at him. 

_Shipment coming June seven. Two hundred boxes, RE300A1 series .45 ammunition. Confirm delivery. _

The rest of the email was related to employee changes, guard duties, and expected customs bribes at the destination. 

"Hn," Heero said, barely able to breathe. 

"That translates to..." Duo pretended to think, a finger against his lips. "Oh, I got it. That means, Duo, you are so wonderful and brilliant, I shall have to treat you to chocolate cake and mad passionate sex!" 

"Idiot." 

Duo's face fell. "No chocolate cake?" 

Heero smirked. "First things first. How'd you de-encrypt?" 

"I ran a variant of Pinky's program, the one that looked for commonly occurring words. Going on the assumption that the original messages were in English, the most common words of three letters or more are: the, and..." Duo paused to think. "you, that, was, for, and are." 

"You said 'and' twice." 

"Smart-ass." Duo twitched, barely suppressing his excitement as he turned back to the laptop. "So I compared that list to the most common three-letter words in the garbled emails. When they matched up, I set up a quick program to then apply those correspondences with the rest of the emails, to see if I could get anything. Turns out it's one of the easiest and oldest. Take the alphabet. Add the ten numerals zero through nine to the end, and shift everything two steps to the left. The letter A becomes―" 

"The number eight," Heero finished, then sat back with a groan. "That's too simple." 

"But it works," Duo protested. "And the reason it works is because it's so damn simple. Anyone looking for a connection would do the same thing we did. They'd look for the hidden meaning, the secret messages. No one would think to look in plain sight, right there, with a code so easy a second-grader could come up with it." 

"You figured it out. What does this say about you?" 

"I'm a kid at heart." Duo grinned and flicked his tongue at Heero. 

"Or something. Log on and tell the hackers so they can get on the rest of the spam, and start organizing it by content as well." 

Duo opened a new window for the forum, the smug expression back on his face when his entrance was greeted with a sudden yelp from Mike. A wicked look crossed Duo's face as he promptly booted the young hacker twice in a row before settling down to explain his discovery. It was greeted with incredulity, and then laughter as the avatars shook, wriggled, and waved various parts. 

The Deathscythe pilot paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, and looked at Heero. "Should I tell them to ditch the rest of the emails? Or continuing working on them?" 

"Tell them to save what they've done and set those aside for now. Focus on the new task. Oh, and tell them I only want the core group working on it. There may be information in there that I don't want becoming public." 

"Got it." Duo obediently typed the directions to the forum's hackers, who decided unanimously to get started right away. He uploaded his rudimentary decryption program, and then logged off. He sat back on his hands with an exhausted but pleased expression before turning to Heero. "So about that chocolate cake?" 

"Anything you want," Heero replied lazily. "You deserve it." His eyes were still on the laptop, its screen saver a lurid green from the kitchen's yellow light. His distraction ended abruptly as he was shoved backwards, and he barely kept his head from hitting the carpet with a thump as he looked up to see Duo perched on his chest. Duo wiggled in place, shoving his crotch at Heero's ribs. 

Heero raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like chocolate cake?" 

He bit his lip as Duo scooted down farther to settle on his thighs, Duo's nimble fingers making short work of the buttons at his jeans. The dark-haired man's next words were drowned in his throat as he moaned, unconsciously thrusting upwards as Duo's hand wrapped around his quickly stiffening erection. 

"Yeah, and I want the icing, too," Duo growled happily before lowering his head. 

The rest of Heero's thoughts were lost as his hands clutched the carpet, his entire being focused on the way Duo's lips and mouth were pulling at his cock. The jeans were tugged down further, and Heero lifted his hips to help, groaning helplessly at the feel of Duo's hands on his balls. The warm wetness of Duo's mouth was unbelievable. Heero found himself grinning at the ceiling, awash in the fire shooting down into his groin. He closed his eyes, content. 

It's good to be chocolate cake, the little voice whispered. 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamian. I do, however, own a gargoyle. I'm not making that up. It sits in my guest bathroom and leers at people while they're peeing. 

Asuka Kureru: Have you recovered yet? Geez, hunting me down when I'm updating nearly every day! I mean, really, what do you want from me? *sniffle* I'm wahkin' heah, I'm wahkin! ;-) 

GoldenRat: Iria is related to Quatre, and Duo specified that the targets are all related to people who have blocked the L4 syndicate alliance with the interstellar syndicates. It's not surprising that Quatre would move to block such an alliance, by intentional or unintentional actions, still being a major bigshot in the L4 world. It's practically his family's colony, after all. 

Lainwyn: I think Enny's smarter than that, but I retain the right to let things change if the plot requires it. And enough with your pop culture references! First Tank Girl, now Reservoir Dogs, sheesh, woman...eheheh. 

Aryl: Yeah, I couldn't resist the notion of flamethrowers myself, although I'm still befuddled as to how Duo would conceivably work them into the general mayhem and destruction the team will be wrecking...but we'll see more of an explanation in the next chapter or two. 

Many thanks to those who pester me off-line, even those more fascinated with my gun knowledge and Wufei's appearance – which I honestly rated as slightly below Shinigami's appearance in terms of shock value – but those lovely folks are still awesome despite the pom-poms: Moffit, Paulina, Arithkenshin, Kamien, RurouniTriv, Cricket, Zaz, SilverFrostTheReaper, Casey Valhalla, Presser, and Tyr. 


	38. in the streets below

**03 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

I hear pounding feet in the streets below,  
and the women crying, and the children know   
that there's something wrong  
― Jane Siberry 

"You look goofy after you've come." 

Heero snorted, and swatted Duo's hand away. He tried to scowl but couldn't wipe the crooked grin off his face, and instead tucked himself back into his jeans. The dark-haired man closed his eyes, felt a breath against his cheek, tried to ignore it, and gave up. He opened his eyes to see Duo leaning over him, a smug smile on the other man's face. 

"Heero, relaxed." Duo's smile grew wider, a cheeky expression. "There's a rare sight." 

"Shut up." There was little force behind the words. 

"Make me." 

Heero grunted negligently and sat up, the day's events rushing back to his mind. He frowned and pushed them away, trying to stay focused on the after-effects of pleasure. Duo caught the look and sat back. 

"What's wrong?" Duo's voice was unexpectedly tentative. 

Heero pilot shook his head, and pushed himself backwards until he was resting against the wall. He leaned his head back, and brought his legs up, resting his elbows across his knees. "Just...distraction only works for so long." 

"Oh." Duo shifted in place. 

"Come over here." Heero patted the floor next to him. 

The longhaired man smiled shyly and crawled over, turning to sit next to Heero. The two leaned against the wall, staring at the wall opposite, silent for several minutes. 

"It's not over," Duo whispered, his tone neutral, acknowledging a fact. 

"No." Heero closed his eyes, trying to let the relaxed state last a little longer. It wasn't working. "The only thing we have now is proof that there's correspondence leaving L2 that deals with gun smuggling." 

"Correspondence from six months ago, on top of that," Duo pointed out. 

Heero nodded. "We don't know who was on the other end, or who was running the operation. Unless Quatre can find something on his end, the only thing we've achieved is successfully completing Joe's mission." 

Duo sighed, a long controlled exhalation, and his head dipped forward onto his chest. After a pause, he turned his head sideways to watch Heero. "Which means we haven't really achieved anything." 

"I wouldn't say that." 

"I would," Duo replied firmly. "The instant Une presents proof of gun smuggling, the President would yank the Preventers budget. Une wouldn't have the money to pay agents to do the paperwork, let alone prepare for trial." 

Heero rubbed his forehead. He'd wanted to return the blowjob, but the mood had not only passed, it had been drowned in the reality of what they were facing. His mind skipped to a different topic. "I presume you wrote Quatre about the change in the mission." 

"Who, him?" Duo made an irritated noise. "We needed unusual guns, not diplomatic immunity. I wrote Une." 

"Une." Heero's eyebrows shot up as he registered what Duo had said. "How the hell did you manage that? She's got to be watched as closely as anyone." 

Duo grinned, and it was an honestly pleased expression, not the cold exterior he'd worn most of the day. "I remembered she said something once about being a fan of some television show. I did a search, and found several forums for the show. It wasn't hard to figure out which alias was hers, and I sent her a private message." 

Heero rolled his eyes. He didn't need to ask, certain that Duo would explain. 

"Her screen name was 'two-minds' and she even had a short biography. Sketchy, but if you know her history..." Duo shrugged. "She was online, which was a relief. Time was crucial. I gave her the basic picture of what we needed, and she said she'd arrange the rest. Then I hacked the forum and erased the messages we'd sent." 

"That's all?" He waited. 

"Well...so I dropped a virus or two on the forum at the same time. But that's only because they're one of those stupid ones that requests all sorts of information before you can post anything. Bastards." Duo shook his head, clearly disgusted. 

"Duo," Heero said, hesitating for a second. How do I put this, he asked himself. He licked his lips, and tried to organize his argument. "Do you think the rest of the team is aware of the change in plans?" 

"Hilde's gotta be," Duo replied. "She's on L2, so she's right there for any romchip deliveries. I don't know if they would have included Trowa. Syndicates tend to leave you out of the loop if they think you're a snitch." 

"After that job on the asteroid, Pops asked me about Trowa," Heero recalled, his brow wrinkling as he remembered the conversation. "He was suspicious about how Trowa ended up captured by the union. And then he brought up the gap in Trowa's cover." 

"So we're talking previous history on this nervousness," Duo observed. "Ironic when you consider this is supposed to be Trowa's specialty." The longhaired man got up and shut off the kitchen light, returning with a beer from the fridge. Taking a long swallow, he handed it to Heero and sat back down. There was a hand's span between their shoulders, and Heero found himself wishing Duo were the kind of person to sit closer. Sighing, Heero picked back up the thread of the conversation. 

"Hilde and Trowa won't have any warning about the actual implementation." 

"Yeah, well..." Duo lifted one shoulder and dropped it, an indifferent gesture. "Hilde, Enny and Jeet will be doing what we'd originally decided. Trowa's part..." He grinned suddenly. "Hotel staff has access to back areas. Figured I'd get back stage and talk to Trowa at some point." 

"He's going to need more than a half-hour's warning, for...what you want him to do. And you don't know the dancers' schedules, only their onstage schedule." 

"I'll find out." Duo's tone indicated that he knew exactly what Heero was getting at, and he didn't like it. 

Heero moved to a different topic. "Next day off, we go over the time tables." 

"Agreed." Duo was silent for a minute. He shifted to sit cross-legged, his hands loosely clasped in his lap. "There's no way around any of it." 

"I know." Heero's voice was tired. 

"If we duck and run before we've got enough to shut down the syndicate, we'll be hunted down and shot like dogs." Duo's voice was glum. "And with the Preventers' hands tied by the President, any protection pretty much...wouldn't be." 

Heero grunted, somewhere between a curt laugh and a sound of agreement. He took the bottle from Duo, drank, and handed it back. Exhaustion was setting in, and he covered his face with his hands, holding them for a long moment before dragging them away. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Duo watching him, concern written all over the man's delicate features. Heero raised an eyebrow. 

Duo swirled the beer in the bottle, then finished it off and set it aside. "Let's talk about something else." 

Heero smiled, a crooked twitch of his lips. "You have something in mind?" 

"Tell me about your life on L1. What's it like? Where do you live? Do you have an apartment of your own?" 

Heero grunted. "Make up your mind." 

"Heero." Duo shot Heero a mock-annoyed look, and the photographer gave him a lopsided smile. 

"Hn." Heero thought for a moment. "My apartment's about four times the size of this place. Just as empty, too." He laughed softly, a harsh sound in his ears. "A lot of windows, high ceilings. It's all one open space, but I have shoji screens that separate the bedroom." Heero thought about it, and took a second to identify the strange sensation in his chest. It's not homesickness, he realized. It's disconnection. I said good-bye, at some point, and I can't remember when. Haltingly, he picked back up the topic. "There are clothes lines hanging across the space. I hang new prints when they're drying. Bernie used to..." Heero's voice trailed off. 

"Bernie?" Duo prompted. 

"My agent...used to tell me he didn't see how I could get from one to the other without running into someone's face." Heero grinned ruefully. He'd just gotten used to navigating the hanging pictures, and never gave it much thought. 

"Do you have a stereo? Television? Furniture?" 

"You see awfully curious about this." Heero turned his head, still leaning against the wall, to look at Duo. 

"Just...trying to picture it. I've been trying to figure out what your natural habitat would look like." He pulled his braid around to the front, cradling it in his hands, then laughed self-consciously. "Sorry. I guess it's a stupid thing to ask." 

"I don't have a television or stereo," Heero replied, ignoring Duo's comment. "I had a college roommate who left the television and the stereo both on, all the time. When I moved into my own place, the quiet was such a relief...and then I got used to it, I suppose. Never gave it much thought." 

Duo chuckled. "I can't see you living with someone else and not killing them." 

"I can't either," Heero replied, and then realized what he'd said. Trying to sound nonchalant, he added, "We haven't done too badly." 

"We're hardly ever here at the same time." 

Heero nodded. "What about you? Your apartment's on L2, right?" He swallowed hard, and wondered why he felt nervous. 

"Not really. It's not home, if that's what you mean...just a place for when we need to be off-ship," Duo said wryly. "All my real stuff's at Howard's. Not that I have a lot. Just some boxes...things I didn't want to throw out. The rest was all student junk. Not worth keeping." 

"Ah." Heero returned his attention to the wall opposite, the nervousness growing in the pit of his stomach. There's a conversation here, that we're having, he thought numbly, and I don't know what we're really saying. He was too tired, and too stressed, to pry the pieces apart to see inside Duo's words. 

"What do you plan to do, when this is over?" Duo's voice was soft, not even a whisper in the silent room. 

Heero was startled, and said the first thing that came into his mind. "I hadn't given it much thought. I guess I'll go back to L1 and pick up where I left off." 

"Oh." The word was barely audible, and Heero frowned, uncertain. Duo winced, and shot Heero an embarrassed look. "Sorry. I'm full of stupid questions tonight." 

"I don't think so." He shrugged. "It's just...I don't know if..." His voice trailed off, not sure what he was planning on saying. He yawned, then blinked, surprised at himself. "What time is it?" 

Duo glanced at his watch, flicking the button to light up the dial. "Almost eleven." 

"That late? I've got to get to sleep," Heero told him. He slowly got his legs under him, pausing as he crouched next to Duo. "Thanks...for earlier. Sorry I didn't..." 

"It's okay," Duo said, waving him away. "I got what I wanted. You go to sleep. I think I'll watch a movie or something." 

Heero hesitated, then stood up with a nod. "When's your next day off?" 

There was a line between Duo's brows as he counted under his breath. "Seventeenth. I think that's three days from now." He glanced up at Heero and grinned. "Assuming I don't have to work to cover for whatever lucky sap covered for me today." 

"Ah. Good night." Heero didn't wait for Duo's response. In the bedroom, he stripped off his clothes, pulled on his sweatpants and a T-shirt, and crawled into bed. 

* * *

The next day was non-stop rush during work; the hotel business had picked up after the post-holiday lull. At four o'clock, Heero was letting himself into the apartment, his entire body aching. By the time the colony lights powered down, he'd finished reading one of his books and eaten the leftovers from the night before. He dug through his growing pile of paperbacks, annoyed to discover he'd read everything in the stack at least once. Settling back on his haunches, he considered going out before the local bookstore closed. 

When he stood up, he turned to look across the room, and froze in place at the sight of his own reflection. He half-expected to see Duo, beside him, that strange cold smile playing on the thief's lips as they met with the gun smugglers. The street lamp's familiar light cast long shadows in the living room as Heero moved to the window, watching the late-night taxis crawl past, searching for passengers. Sighing, he brought his hands up in front of him, staring at them as though seeing them for the first time. 

Pull the slide back. Push from right to left. Flip the gun upside down. Draw the receiver to the rear and disengage it. Draw the recoil spring and guide. Push the barrel counterclockwise and lift it out. 

Five years, and his hands knew precisely what to do. Dr. J's instructions whispered in his ears, but he refused to listen. 

Blankly, Heero continued studying his hands, turning them over to look at the backs. He flexed the muscles, drawing his fingers into fists, then uncurled them and flipped them over to stare at the palms again. The calluses from piloting a Gundam were still there, marked indelibly. He wondered which was the lifeline, and whether the scars of war could alter one's destiny simply by being imprinted on one's hand. 

Raising his hands before him, he mimed holding a gun, and visualized pulling the trigger, then sighed and let his hands drop. In college, he'd taken the obligatory philosophy course, but refrained from speaking the day the professor introduced the ancient argument of one versus many. As someone who'd lived and almost died for the concept of killing a few to save everyone else, Heero hadn't felt he could reasonably participate. He understood, intellectually, both sides. But he knew all too well the fact of the decision that isn't a true decision, when it's kill or be killed. He knew the moment before firing, when all things were possible, and the moment afterwards, when only one course remained. He knew the moment when the blood ran down one's face and onto one's hands. 

All the words in the world won't wash the blood from my hands, nor can it make right or wrong of what I've done. Now it's only history. 

He stared out at the dark colony and thought about his conversation with Duo. The other man knew as well as he did that they were trapped. Their discovery about the email was a breakthrough, but only if it led to proof of a connection between the President and the syndicate. Heero reminded himself that Quatre had also requested that they track down financial records. To do that, though, they would definitely have to be at the source. They hadn't gotten close enough yet. This job is big enough, Heero told himself, and doing it successfully will put us where we need to be. 

And that meant six people had to die. 

Quietly he groaned, rubbing his forehead as he struggled with the decision pushing its way to his awareness. Their task had to be successful. There couldn't be any chance the syndicate would think they'd purposefully botched the job. Any risk to their success had to be put down as brutally as they had all risks on the previous jobs. Anything less would be seen as failure, and retribution would be swift and sure. The veiled threats about Trowa were clear sign of that. Their progress in the syndicate would stand or fall on what they did in thirteen days. 

Trowa's a crack shot, Heero told himself. But Trowa was trained as a mercenary, not an assassin. And he's in love with the man whose sister is on the list of targets. 

Heero leaned against the window, pressing his forehead to the cold glass, and let a heartbeat's longing wash over him. I could use Zero's divination now, he murmured silently. Who are my enemies? Who are my friends? Quatre played me like a fine instrument, pushing the buttons of protectiveness and loneliness to make me rush off after Duo and Trowa. Lady Une would help, but her hands are tied and she's trapped in radio silence. Wufei is bringing us the very weapons that will create a bloodbath of a business dinner. And Duo didn't even warn Quatre of his sister's impending death. 

He turned to lean against the wall and slid down until his cheek rested on his knees. Wrapping his arms around his shins, he stared unseeing into the depths of the apartment, a cold fear leaking into his heart. 

On some level, Heero recognized that warning any of the rest of the Gundam pilots was a huge risk. Not only for the possibility that a message would be intercepted, but because any preventive measures taken would only make the team's job that much harder. Iria's sudden withdrawal from the event could trigger suspicion in an already skittish syndicate, who might blame the sudden change on Trowa. The situation would only be compounded if Quatre tried to get all the targets to cancel their attendance. Heero ticked off the list of possible results. The syndicate might order other targets killed instead. The team might be expected to perform six separate assassinations to make sure the message was still heard. Or Trowa, and possibly the entire team, would simply be eliminated. 

That's the most likely option, Heero realized, his chest aching. He didn't need Zero to tell him that. Joe's death was a message, no matter who actually switched the Carn lines. Trowa's inconsistencies were one more point against them. They wouldn't get a third. 

He covered his head with his arms, trembling. I don't want to kill anyone. I don't want to put the lives of my teammates at risk. I don't want to decide who lives or dies. He pulled his legs in closer to his chest, his toes overlapping each other as he curled in on himself, fighting to keep his self-control. It was never my decision, he told himself numbly, his forehead on his knees. I was following orders. 

The argument in the philosophy course drifted back to Heero's awareness, and he took a minute to turn it over in his mind. One girl had raised the question of personal interaction, saying that a random stranger's death, to prevent war, would be far easier than sacrificing someone she knew. Heero had scoffed quietly at this statement. In wartime he'd had no qualms about sacrificing anything and everything that would stand between him and success. 

That's not true, the small voice abruptly muttered. Heero sighed and turned his head to stare out at the dark room, remembering. He'd stood in the prison doorway, his gun out, the hammer down, ready to shoot Duo, and he couldn't do it. He'd gripped the controls of Wing, beam cannon primed, aiming straight for Relena, and he couldn't do it. Neither had been a true risk to his mission, and he'd been saved from making the choice, in the end. Even now he couldn't say what he would have done, had their deaths been ordered. Even as he struggled to assure himself that he could not kill someone he loved, some spark of brutal honesty denied the claim. 

Heero moaned, and buried his head against his knees. He wasn't sure whether to grieve, or be relieved that after five years he might be able to put the mask away. After so long, could he be the truth of himself, he asked silently, underneath his daily life of suggesting wines or developing negatives or studying for exams. Hito Yuy was as much a mask as Duo's jester smile. Under it he could feel the Soldier he'd been trained to be, and under that, the assassin he'd been raised to be. 

The apartment felt cold, and too empty, without Duo's warmth. Heero shivered. Duo made him smile, made him laugh, made him moan in ecstasy. But that's not who I am, he thought sadly. I was never like that before Duo. Vaguely he was aware he was missing something, but fatigue and a sudden loneliness made it nearly impossible to look at the thoughts head-on. Too much was swirling in his brain, and he longed for the simplicity he'd had once. Gain the contract, study the parameters, fulfill the mission, return to start to await further orders: only the tool, nothing more. 

Failure on this job would put four lives at risk. Hilde. Trowa. Heero shrugged at the notion of his own death, his mind settling comfortably into considering himself an insignificant tool as though five years hadn't passed since his last command from Dr. J. But the final name on the list made him stumble. 

Duo. 

I can't do it, he cried quietly, his hands nearly bruising his own legs as he tried to shrink in on himself, away from the decision he was about to make. I can't do anything that would mean Duo's death, and the pain faded as his mind latched onto this final awareness. Duo has to survive this, after somehow enduring every unbelievable insurmountable situation during the war. I'll make sure of it, Heero promised himself. And if I have to kill every man, woman, and child at the convention, I will, as long as it means Duo survives. 

The colony lights were powered down, and Heero struggled to his feet, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand but filled with a strange sense of peace. Tomorrow he would begin preparing for the job, reviewing the information and memorizing the faces. In the meantime, however, he decided he could enjoy one last dime novel, and pretend that he was still the person that had smiled at Duo the night before. 

* * *

Returning to the apartment an hour later, he shuffled the bag of books to his left hand and dug around in his jacket for his keys. Instead of pulling out his keys, though, he pulled out the little camera. He'd taken another several hundred shots over the past two weeks, downloaded them onto the laptop, and then returned the camera back to the interior coat pocket. 

Heero unlocked the door, shut it behind him with one foot, and set the bag and the camera on the countertop next to his keys. For a long moment he stared at the camera, before finally picking it up and turning it over in his hands. It was a delicate, miniature piece of equipment, and his chest ached, his fingers itching. I miss my antique camera, he thought, his expression wry at the confession. 

He stood for a long time in the darkening kitchen, tapping one finger absently against the camera body before coming to a decision. Setting himself before the laptop, he downloaded all the images he'd taken on L4, as well as the pictures from the asteroid and L2. They were all of people, buildings, and crowds. There was nothing to identify him, or the people he was now with, and only someone who'd traveled to the same locations might recognize a pattern in his movement around the colonies. Despite that assurance, Heero hesitated, then set his jaw and downloaded everything onto a disk. 

Putting his coat back on, he tucked the camera and the disk into his pocket and headed back out again. 

* * *

_Bernie. Here are the latest pictures. Sort them and use what you like. Guess your cameras came in handy after all. Take care of yourself._

The note was terse, but Heero didn't have much time to write it while the postal store worker packaged the camera and the disk. He hesitated for a moment, then added: 

_Sayonara._

He didn't sign it. 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamian. I do, however, own two cans of paint. Note that I do not say "opened" or "used" cans of paint. I bet you know where this is heading... 

Extra thanks to CleverYoungThief, my current favorite Shinigami expert, and Lainwyn, who graciously suggested whole paragraphs to slice. (Ooh, I love editing stuff out.) Just as Heero's decision wasn't an easy one, neither was this chapter easy to write. Agonizing, actually, as you might be able to guess from the minor delay in my usual speed. 

Nlp: yeah, I still like Mike. He'll be showing up in the next chapter, I think. Pretty sure, at least, that we'll get to see the hackers in all their glory for an extended bit. 

KatsyKat: After that last chapter, I'm sure you're thinking this is a major downer. Well, ahem, it is, I guess. Wufei and Duo obviously have some history, but I'm hoping it'll clear itself up at some point. 

Stardancer1: Condoms help, but it's not necessary. For most people an orgasm consists of making some faces, clenching muscles, and yelling or gasping. But anyway...glad you enjoyed the behind-the-scenes, but I just haven't been up to finding comedy in a story that's rapidly turning very dark. Well, it started dark, but it's getting worse. 

Lainwyn: You aren't forbidden from pop culture references. Just givin' ya grief...heh. Re Wufei: see my note to KatsyKat. Actually, when I think of Duo and Heero going grocery shopping, I keep thinking of: wonder twin powers, form of...! 

AlyRain: Gun surplus is a common thing, as firearms and munitions are often stored by a government and forgotten. This is how we can still have guns from the Spanish Civil War circulating, or from the Russo-Afghanistan conflict. It's not necessarily that anyone needed to hide them; they're usually just forgotten, 'rediscovered' and sold by the government. In this case, I'd imagine Sanq doesn't talk about it, but hey. 

Dyna: You're right, it's a difficult philosophical question I've dumped on the guys. At this point, I'm honestly not sure whether the reality of the story would allow for a deus ex machina, but I'm just writing the stuff. We'll see where it ends up. I was hoping for a happy ending, but right now I think I'll settle for something that doesn't leave everyone taking out the tar and feathers to my screen-name. 

Asuka Kureru: Wufei's getting a lot of heat. Didn't realize he had so many diehard fans! He'll make another appearance, but I don't know if his attitude will have changed. Plus, being undercover, they're all walking on eggshells as to what they can say or do. 

GoldenRat: Encoded spam is common, but by spam's very nature, easily overlooked when you're expecting a complex answer. That's part of the point, that the simplest answers sometimes really are the best. Hopefully the rest of the story will bear out this theme, but...guess we'll have to see, eh? 

And many thanks to those who cheer me on: srusse87, Ashkara, Casey Valhalla, Arithkenshin, KittyChou, and Cricket. 


	39. fragile bodies of touch and taste

**03 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

These fragile bodies of touch and taste  
This vibrant skin, this hair like lace  
Spirits open to the thrust of grace  
― Bruce Cockburn 

Heero woke up at the click of the apartment door being latched. Smiling to himself, he stayed drifting on the edge of sleep, listening to Duo's quiet movements around the space: get a drink, check email, take a shower. Sometime later Duo slipped into bed, and his fingers automatically reached out. Heero came awake at the touch, his eyes opening to see Duo's profile. There were lines of exhaustion on the young man's face, and his braid lay across his chest. 

It won't really be tomorrow until it's dawn, Heero told himself. Until then, I can still pretend. 

As silently as he could manage, he slid through the sheets until he was next to Duo, sitting up halfway to look down at his roommate. There was a pause, and Duo's eyes opened. The deep blue was shadowed in the streetlamp's light arcing through the window. 

"Heero?" Duo sounded mildly suspicious. 

"Long day at work?" Heero kept his voice soft, but conversational. 

"Yeah." Duo groaned. In the dark, Heero could just see Duo rolling his eyes. "Had a twelve top from hell. Nothing was right. Lettuce was cut too big, the steak was too rare, the carrots were too soft. The only thing they liked was the wine, which meant they were so toasted when they gave me a ten percent tip they didn't realize it was on top of the hotel's twenty percent gratuity for large groups." A puzzled note entered his voice. "Heero? Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" 

Duo brought a hand out from under the sheets and touched Heero's bare chest. As his slim fingers ran over Heero's nipple, the Wing Zero pilot's skin shivered. Duo's hand continued, running down Heero's stomach to his bare hip. Duo's eyes widened. 

"You're not wearing any―" 

Heero silenced him with a kiss. 

* * *

**[SCENE INCOMPLETE DUE TO REMOVAL OF NC-17 MATERIAL. For complete version, go to www. sweetlysour. net/ sol/ drums39.htm - remember to remove spaces] **

Heero sat up, confused, and wiped his hands on the futon. Crawling over Duo, he held himself above Duo as he looked down. "Are you okay?" 

"That was..." Duo's eyes opened, sluggishly, then closed again as a smile twitched at the edge of his lips. "Ticklish afterwards...sensitive, I guess." His face was flushed lightly, and Heero watched, amused, as Duo's breathing slowly became more even. Duo opened one eye, looked at Heero, then closed his eye. "Stop staring at me." 

"You look goofy after you've come," Heero told him. 

"Yeah, well, fuck you," Duo mumbled, sated. Faintly he waved one hand, but didn't otherwise move. 

"That wasn't quite what I had in mind," Heero replied, and rubbed his hips against Duo's stomach. His stiff erection was weeping, and the motion smeared it on Duo's belly, making it easier for Heero to grind a little harder. Duo's eyes opened again, and he glanced down, then grinned. 

"Round two," he announced. "Let me up. I'll be right back." 

Heero frowned and sat back on his heels to let Duo sit up, but caught the other man by the wrist before Duo could stand up. He hesitated, and asked his question in a rush. "Wh-why do you leave?" 

"Cleaning up," Duo muttered, adding something else Heero couldn't make out. 

The Wing Zero pilot had developed a theory, but suspected the problem wasn't the act but the crassness of stating it out loud. Heero tugged at Duo's wrist until Duo looked at him. "Duo...I appreciate it. But you don't have to...I like...I don't have a problem with any part of your body." 

"I do," came the soft reply. Duo fidgeted, uneasy, then sighed. "When I was a kid, the other kids used to...tease me. They said I...smelled like a sewer." His eyes were lowered, and Heero twisted his lips as he thought about what to say. 

"I...think you smell like...curry," Heero finally whispered. Duo's eyes flew up, looking at him quizzically, and Heero shrugged, an almost-imperceptible movement. "And...engine oil. And leather...and mint." 

"That's the toothpaste," Duo replied, but his shy smile was genuine. Carefully he disengaged from Heero's hold, and stood up. "I'll be..." His legs buckled, and he laughed nervously as he regained his balance. "Rubber knees. Be right back." 

* * *

**[SCENE INCOMPLETE DUE TO REMOVAL OF NC-17 MATERIAL]**

After a few minutes, Duo stirred, raising his head up to kiss Heero softly on the lips. "Let me up," he whispered. "I'll get us something to clean up." 

Heero sighed and let his head fall back on the pillow. "No...stay here." 

"What?" Duo made a face. "We're all...sticky. And I'm leaking." 

The Wing Zero pilot blinked, then chuckled suddenly. 

"It's not funny." The other man narrowed his eyes, mildly annoyed. "I am." 

"I know, I know." Heero released Duo, who sat up, a little wobbly. "I was remembering how upset you got that time Deathscythe was leaking fluid." 

"Well, if some bastard hadn't stolen parts, it would've been just fine." 

Heero had the grace to flush, even as he feigned a long-suffering air. "Are we going to be eighty, sitting in some nursing home for Gundam pilots, and you'll still be getting on my case about that? What do I have to do? Let you..." Heero trailed off, noticing the odd expression on Duo's face. "Duo? Is something wrong?" 

"No," Duo said, ducking his head as he got up. "Just...never mind. I'll go get a towel." 

Heero's brow creased as he watched his friend leave. Duo's expression had seemed to be a mix of surprise, fear, and a little bit of hopefulness. Duo returned with a damp cloth, and Heero filed the observation away. After wiping himself, he handed the towel to Duo, who tossed it to the side. 

"I am not folding it," Duo told him imperiously as he lay down on his back to stare at the ceiling. 

"In that case, get over here," Heero replied. Exerting the strength he'd held back even during sex, Heero sat up long enough to catch Duo under the arm, pulling Duo to the middle of the bed. 

Duo squeaked in surprise, and Heero laughed softly, burying his face in Duo's hair as the two got comfortable, spooning back-to-front. Heero raised his head, supporting it with a fist as he put his other arm across Duo's chest. Under his chin, Heero could just make out the dark shape of the tattoo on Duo's left shoulder blade. 

"What's your tattoo?" Heero leaned over, ghosting his lips across the dark shape. Duo's skin shivered under the touch. 

"An Irish wolf," Duo replied quietly. 

"What's that?" 

"It's an old thing. Came across it in a book while I was in school." The Deathscythe pilot shrugged, a slight movement against Heero's lips as he kissed the tattoo a second time. "You probably can't see it in the dark, but it's wearing a broken collar and is stepping on a broken crown." 

"What does it mean?" Heero pulled away from Duo, squinting at the shape on Duo's shoulder blade. Duo's body was in shadow, and all Heero could make out was the general outline, and that it was some sort of intricate knot-work. 

"It has a phrase that goes with it that I can never remember...but the translation is 'neither collar nor crown.' It stands for the way the Irish people refused to consider the British Empire their masters," Duo explained patiently. "It...just...I really liked it." 

"That fits you very well...Did you draw it?" 

"No. I kept copies of the different versions, and showed them to Jeet. He did several drawings for me. I picked the one I liked the best, and got it done by this guy in Sector 1 who's really good." 

"Ah." Heero draped his arm over Duo's chest, who pressed himself backwards until there was no space between their bodies. 

"I didn't..." The longhaired man swallowed, then moved his head and winced. "Ow, my hair." Heero shifted, and Duo pulled his braid out from between them. 

"You didn't what," Heero prompted softly. His left hand played across Duo's arm, and back down to pull the thief closer. 

"Didn't think you liked...this," Duo finished. His voice was soft, and a little forlorn. "You never did, before." 

Heero's heart froze. He was careful to make sure his fingers never paused in their path of running gently up and down Duo's abdomen. "Before?" 

"During the war." Duo shrugged casually. "It seemed to bother you whenever I touched you, back then." 

"I didn't have a lot of practice." Heero's voice was perfectly neutral, and he placed a kiss on Duo's shoulder, then ran his tongue across the thief's shoulder to suckle at the back of Duo's neck. His left hand continued to run in circles on Duo's stomach. 

"You..." The word turned into a purr at the sensation of teeth and fingertips. "You...seem to be fine with it now." 

"That's entirely your fault," Heero informed him, pausing to speak before going back to open-mouth kisses on Duo's shoulder. 

"If it is," came the reply, edged with the beginnings of a whimper, "I take full blame, and am perfectly happy with any punishment." Duo shifted in place, rolling over on his back to stare up at Heero. "I...like you, the way you are now." 

Me too, thought Heero, closing his eyes. I just wish it were truly who I am. 

He was startled at a touch on his cheek, and opened his eyes to see Duo looking up at him. The man's face was in shadow, blocked from the street lamp's light by Heero's body, but his touch was gentle, and his voice was low. 

"Heero? Does that...bother you?" 

"Bother me?" Heero put his own hand up against Duo's, and leaned into the touch. "No..." he said, leaning down for a kiss, then pulling away to whisper. "I...like you, too...I just wish it could stay like this...I wish morning would never come." 

"We don't need to freeze time. It's not like we're still at war." Duo's retort was playful. "Or maybe you're just sick of waiting tables?" 

"Ah," Heero said, pretending to agree, and Duo tugged him down for another kiss. Heero sighed, sadness washing over him. 

Duo nibbled at Heero's lower lip. Heero responded, running his tongue across Duo's top lip, and felt Duo's smile as their mouths met again. His fingers were buried in Duo's hair, and Duo purred as Heero's tongue met his. 

I don't want morning to ever come, he told himself. When it does, everything will change...and I don't want to lose this. 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamian. I do, however, own a Santo. This is a small wooden statue of a saint, often seen in Mexican churches. The problem is that our saint is missing its hands, so the hands have recently been replaced with little scissors a la Edward Scissorhands, only in this case it's Edward ScissorSanto. Weirdness. 

Extra thanks this chapter go to Presser, who dutifully read, shredded, and encouraged me sweetly despite pointing out some mistakes that still have me curious as to what I was thinking. Writing a sex scene while thinking of something else is a fast track for some crazy typos. But my buddy prevailed, and what you see is in great part thanks to his suggestions (and good humor). Any subsequent errors in the scene are my own, as I deprived him of seeing the final draft. (Yes, I'm evil.) Also gratitude goes to Arithion (Arithkenshin) who let me ramble through tattoo options, and argued eloquently for the final choice. 

If you want to see a picture of Duo's tattoo, fanart by Duo Priest is now up. Go to gwaddiction dot com, click on Fanfiction, then scroll down to Sol 1056. From there, look for "Sol's Gallery" in the table header, and click on it. Click on 'Drums of Heaven' and ta-dah! Fan art. Happy author. ;D 

AlyRain: Just wait until...*cough* Hehe...naw. I'll let you just stew. But here's a tip: things don't always work quite like you think they will. Actually, that statement covers a lot of the way Drums has worked out as a story. 

Lainwyn: You interpreted 'sayonara' just like I meant – Bernie, being a huge representation of Heero's post-war life, is therefore the one to carry the burden of Heero's departure with the use of that word. I didn't want 'goodbye' since it has colloquial usage in English that's a bit more light-hearted. Besides, 'sayonara' is a term you'll hear in America, so it's not a completely foreign word. (It's also the term Heero used with Relena, when heading out to fight Zechs.) 

Nlp: You did a huge review and I didn't get to see it? Oh, please repost and try again! I've missed your reviews. *sniffle* 

KatsyKat: Well, Heero's, uh, not quite had a good rest yet. Had a good something, but it didn't appear to involve sleeping. The decision to not only pick up a gun again, but to use it specifically for the purpose of ending lives...that's a huge decision, and I didn't want to cheapen it. Hopefully I succeeded in showing just how hard it would really be, and the factors Heero would consider before going forward. 

Asuka Kureru: Yes, Heero negated his earlier statements, but he also said that to Duo the night before. He didn't make up his mind until the following night, and his note to Bernie was an indication of the change over the previous hours. The real stupidity, IMO, was buried in this chapter, when Heero starts believing...well, I'll let you figure it out. Hackers, next chapter, I think! ;-) 

Firefaery: Oh, you're a Calic0Cat fan too, eh? She asked me way back: is this going to have a happy ending? To which I said: uh, yeah! And now I'm thinking, oooh, Cal, don't kick my ass if someone dies. Heh. Not saying anyone will, but it's not exactly a cheerful bedtime story, y'know? 

Hieislover1985: Glad you're enjoying it. Heero's getting easier to write, but the situations I'm throwing at him seem to be getting progressively harder to deal with. I'm almost feeling sorry for the guy. Almost. Hm. Naw. I'm not. More suffering! Must have more suffering! ;-) 

Maldorer: You have time to read only 'cause you finally finished Two Halves, right? (Which I enjoyed greatly, btw.) The blinking clock...heh. It's strange, how when I describe something, I throw in these little details and figure no one really notices them but me. And then later to find out that there are folks who still like Sammy because of that gold tooth. Strange, what sticks in readers' heads. 

Shinimegami82: First, take down your incomplete story. It'll only make you feel guilty for leaving it up, unfinished! Then, sit down and start writing from a different character's POV. Say, if the story is from Heero's POV, try free-writing the scene from a bystander's POV – and better yet if it's an original character, done in first-person. This will let you a) continue the same plotline, b) explore your abilities characterizing an original character, and c) give you insight via the twist on perspective. Then go back and see what this tells you about the story. It might be that part of the reason you can't go further is because the story just isn't there. In that case, set it aside as a learning experience, and try something else. I recommend 'what if' scenarios. Drums started as a 'what if Heero had to go undercover as a prostitute to find out why Duo was in the syndicate?' ...and see what happened? Sheesh. Remind me not to do what-if scenarios! ;-) 

Also many, many thanks to those who have taken the time to email me with their interpretations, comments, questions, and encouragement: Moffit, RadicalThief, Morgan, Okaasan, Kiya Sama, CZ, Morgan, DHNightshadow, Arithkenshin, and RurouniTriv. 

Getting feedback just makes my day! ;-) 


	40. aches like tetanus

**03 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

Seasons of war and peace,   
these should not be forgotten years  
Still it aches like tetanus, it reeks of politics  
― Rob Hirst 

Ellen Marie Scott. 

Architect. Thirty-nine years old. Five foot two, a hundred and twelve pounds. Partner to Mei Xing Lee, L4 businesswoman. Hispanic, light brown skin, brown hair, green eyes. Habit of dressing in red. 

Nicholas Michael Volkov. 

Accountant, former military. Forty-one years old. Six foot one, two hundred and five pounds. Brother to Peter Ustov Volkov, L4 Senator. Russian, pale skin, red hair, brown eyes. Walks with a limp from war injury. 

Ninaj Janice Desir. 

Professor of anthropology, former military. Twenty-nine years old. Five foot five, a hundred and twenty-seven pounds. Cousin to James Patrick Raoul, L4 anti-trust lawyer. Haitian, dark skin, brown hair, brown eyes. Distinctive blonde streak at forehead. 

Shuiichi Miyamura. 

Computer programmer. Fifty-six years old. Five foot eleven, a hundred and eighty-two pounds. Partner to Megumi Miyamura, L4 Interstellar Trading Association representative. Asian, golden skin, black hair, gray eyes. Wears hair in ponytail, tends to stay seated while wife socializes. 

Ian Christopher Ross. 

Sculptor, former military. Forty-three years old. Six foot two, two hundred and fifteen pounds. Partner to Vincent Joseph Borja, L4 syndicate operative. British, pale skin, blond hair, blue eyes. Trained in self-defense and firearms. 

Iria Winner Marlowe. 

Doctor. Twenty-six years old. Five foot eight, a hundred and thirty-five pounds. Married to Martin Abdul Marlowe, L4 businessman. Arab, pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes. Shy, rarely leaves husband's side in social gatherings. Elder sister of Quatre Raberba Winner. 

* * *

Eleven days to mission start. 

Heero had stayed late after work to survey the location. He had been satisfied to see there was a raised platform for the orchestra, and a balcony area surrounding the dance floor and seating area. Large columns around the room would provide cover, but he didn't have a chance to go upstairs, and made a mental note to do that the next day. Staff was setting up for an event, and he didn't want to be seen poking around too much prior to the convention. 

Once home, he grabbed a beer from the fridge and settled himself on a floor pillow in front of the laptop. He'd memorized the target stats that morning, before leaving for work. In the mid-afternoon dullness of colony light pouring through the window, he reviewed the stats, testing himself on identifying the photographs of each target along with their identifying marks or habits. When he was satisfied he could quote the information in his sleep, and pick each out of a lineup cold, Heero closed the file and opened the next. 

Quickly he reviewed Duo's shopping list, and checked their joint email. No word had arrived from Frank. Heero tapped his finger against the keyboard, aimless for a minute, and a little frustrated. He'd been hoping for a chance to get the AR-15 in his hands, ahead of time. Some of Duo's modification requests were ones Heero wouldn't have chosen, and the handling would be affected. 

He squashed the frustrated feelings and focused on centering himself. Taking a deep breath, he put his hands back on the keyboard and quickly opened a window for the hacker's forum. The entire crew was in the forum, along with six or seven aliases that he didn't recognize. 

"And then some bastard launched several nasty viruses on my favorite forum," Mike was complaining. 

"Your fault for watching daytime soaps during your lunch break," Pinky told him. 

"Shut up, you pink freak," Snake retorted. "I know you watch those stupid hospital shows." 

"But why shut down a forum," the Hand whined. "It's not like it was doing anything bad. We're just fans." 

Heero shook his head and typed a greeting. "Wing here." 

Rat's response was immediate and startling. 

"Forum on lockdown. Timmie, CeeTee, Wynne, Bones, Yindi, Dix, and Ngal, you're out of here. Come back in an hour." The Rat's whiskers wiggled, and the seven avatars one by one disappeared from the channel. "IP logged. Leave and come back, full security," Rat continued, and Heero found himself suddenly alone in an empty forum with Rat. 

"You, too, Wing," Rat said. "We've got to talk to you, and we don't want anyone listening. Check out and come back in, and we'll verify it's you. Make sure you don't log off and back on completely, or we'll lose your assigned DSN." 

"Roger that," Heero typed, and closed the window. He immediately reopened it, and was pleased to see the forum no longer appeared on the 'net. Instead, he had to hack into the system, waited for a second while he was confirmed, and then the window reappeared. Most of the avatars were back. Snake and Rat appeared a second later. 

Heero waited, figuring the hackers would let him know what was going on. 

"We want to talk to you," Pinky started. "We've done nearly all the email decoding, and this..." The avatar's pink pigtails shook a few times. "This is some major shit, man." 

"Yes, it is." Heero sighed. He'd been worried about something like this. 

The Hand gave Heero's dove wing the finger. "Wing, this is M-A-J-O-R-S-H-I-T, not just your everyday major shit." 

"Mike, no disrespecting elite hackers," Rat snapped, but didn't boot the avatar. The forum was already locked down. Instead, the Rat twirled its white Frisbee and was silent for a moment. "The emails are pretty clear. There's major gun traffic going on between the Asian Yakuza, the Russian Mafia, and the American Underworld, in conjunction with the Colony syndicates. The emails list times, dates, amounts, locations...everything. They obviously didn't expect anyone to come poking around." 

"I've seen the movies," Mike added. "People get killed for finding out this kind of stuff." 

"You won't get killed," Heero told him. "They don't know you know, and that's the only thing keeping you safe." 

"What we want to know is what you're going to do about it," Rat interjected. "We've got no problem helping you, but we signed up to help you find Deathscythe and Heavyarms. And now we're decoding gun smuggling operations. That's a big jump, y'know?" 

"Do you want out?" Heero prepared to be shut out while the team discussed it, and was surprised when the response was immediate. 

"No way," Snake replied. "I'm in this, to the end." 

"Me too," Pinky replied. 

Rosie's avatar waved, and the alligator and star avatars indicated their agreement as well. The rat wriggled its whiskers. There was a pause, and Heero waited for Mike to respond. 

"I guess so," Mike finally said. "But I don't want to go to jail. My mom would ground me for life." 

"You won't go to jail," Heero replied. "You're doing Preventers work now." 

"We are?" Rat's avatar blinked. "You're a Preventer, all this time? Crap. We've broken a bunch of laws already." 

"We can't play fair. The syndicate isn't." Heero shrugged. 

"Good point," Snake muttered. 

"So what do we do? Just sit on this information?" The pink-haired avatar shook its pigtails again. 

"I say we go to the media," Rosie suddenly said. 

"What are we going to tell them?" Snake was irritated. "Hey, we're a bunch of kids who just happened to break into a server and just happened to download a bunch of spam and just―" 

"I have an idea," Mike interrupted. 

"Go ahead," Heero said. His lips twitched, just the beginnings of a smile. He'd been counting on Mike to come up with something. The kid's mind was as unpredictable as Duo's. 

"I was looking at the headers, and there's about sixteen email addresses in the main box plus the real one." The Hand wiggled its fingers nervously. "I was bored yesterday, so I checked out the addresses that show up in every email, and none of them exist. They're all fake. Only one or two in each header is a real one. So I created an address, and spoofed the ISP to be the same as the spam." 

"And?" Rat was getting testy. 

"I started getting spam," Mike replied quietly. "Starting right away. And I decoded it, and it's all the latest information." 

"All from the L2 syndicate?" The Wing Zero pilot leaned forward, amused and expectant. 

"Nope. It's from everybody." 

The room was completely silent. 

"Everybody?" Rat finally typed. 

"Everybody," Mike confirmed. "I got one this morning at about two standard time, that says there's a request for a shipment of Kotangs silencer modifications for L3, and fifteen minutes later an answering email from someone else, on L1 I think, saying they don't have any but they think some guy named Petronelli might have some. They were forwarding the email." 

"And?" The Wing Zero pilot felt his face break into a grin. 

"They cc'd the spamming addresses." 

"They're just cutting and pasting the list of fake addresses?" Pinky's avatar shook its head. "Morons." 

"Second that," Snake typed. "Even if it gives us a lucky break, we're still dealing with morons." 

"It's like bugging them," Rosie said, and the red flower bounced a few times. "But instead of bugging them, you just let them send to you." 

"What about the bounce?" Rat's avatar shook its Frisbee. "Mailer daemons handle email sent to nonexistent addresses. If they don't get sixteen bounces, they'll know someone's listening." 

"I don't think so," Mike said, but the fingers on his avatar drooped slightly. "The ISP I spoofed is starnet-dot-net, and it really exists. Operates out of Denmark. It's just the specific address that didn't exist." 

"Besides," Pinky added, "the spam is encoded. They'll probably change or drop that address, and not worry about it. Who's going to pay attention to a jumble of letters and numbers anyway?" 

"I think the risk is worth it," Heero interrupted. "Mike, make sure there's nothing that can connect you to that email address." 

"I'm routing it through an anonymous relay," Mike assured the dark-haired man. 

"Good." Heero sighed. "We'll keep that line of observation open as long as possible. If you stop getting traffic, wait two or three days before picking up another address." 

"How long are we going to have to listen?" Snake asked. 

"Not too long, I think. Just compile what you've got. I want a report on what traffic is going where, who's doing what, and any other information you can pull from the emails." 

"You mean like a full picture of the operations?" Allie raised his top hat and shook it at the dove's wing. "What's the deadline?" 

"I've got a big project coming through in eleven days. Between now and then, something big may go down, and I want to see what the syndicates have to say to each other." 

"You're not looking for gun smuggling," Snake suddenly typed. "You're looking for gossip." 

His perceptiveness amused Heero, who grinned at the forum window. "Exactly. Keep me informed. Over and out." 

* * *

Seven days to mission start. 

Each pilot had spent the time before and after work studying the guest list, time schedules, plans, maps, and target information. Now, five days after meeting with Frank, Heero's day off had finally rolled around. He woke at nine, and got up with a sigh. This would be the first time he and Duo could review the plans, after Duo had to work on his day off to make up for taking a sick day. Groggy, he ran a hand through his hair and stumbled into the bathroom to shower and shave. 

Fifteen minutes later he was staring making coffee, staring blindly out the window as he waited for Duo to wake up. An hour had passed and he was bored enough to haul Duo bodily from bed. Instead he busied himself second-guessing Duo's planned explosives diagrams. 

"Hey...coffee?" The soft voice was bleary, but the footsteps were still silent. Heero nodded in response, and went back to staring at the schematics. Duo joined him a minute later, hands clasped tightly around the mug, and seated himself cross-legged on the nearest pillow. "Can I have a chance to wake up?" 

"It's already ten, Duo," Heero replied sternly. "You left me a note that said you have to go in at one. That doesn't give us a lot of time." 

Duo yawned and nodded, rubbing his eye with a sleeve as he yawned. "Okay. What have we got?" 

"Frank's confirmed delivery of handguns. Everything else is in transit, barring further changes." Heero dragged the stack of schematics over and laid them out, upside down, so Duo could read them. "The first day consists of meetings. Dancers will be entertaining during lunch and dinner, with the hookers and callboys in attendance." 

Duo nodded. "Surveillance only." 

"Delivery must happen before eight standard time the morning of the twenty-sixth. Kimbers placed here, here, and here." Heero pointed to various locations. "There are large palm plants resting on dollies. The handguns for Enny and Hilde will be placed under the ones just outside the port entrance. Trowa's will be inside the electrical panel back left stage." 

"You checked?" 

"It's rarely used, and locked. Frank's guys can jimmy the lock and snap it enough so it'll only take a blow to break." 

Duo nodded, his gaze sharp as he looked over the plans. His deep blue eyes scanned the guest list, and then across the hotel site plan, resting again on the electrical panel marked with a small X. 

"That going to be enough room for the AK-15?" He sipped on his coffee and gave Heero a measuring look. 

"No." Heero's voice was steady. "It'll contain one of the Kimbers, and two magazines, loaded." 

"What about the rifle?" 

"Here." The Wing Zero pilot's finger landed on a spot at the other end of the convention hall, opposite the stage and on the balcony. "There's a storage closet there, used by the maid service. The AR-15 will be stored in a duct behind the table linen shelves, along with another Kimber and two magazines." 

"And Trowa is going to get to that how?" Duo raised one eyebrow, but his tone was bland. 

"He won't." 

Deep blue met dark gray, and the room was perfectly silent for several long heartbeats. 

"Put the Kimber in the maid's closet, and you can cover for him. Find a location to stash the AR-15, where Trowa can get it from the stage." 

"No." 

"Yes. Put the Kimber―" 

"I heard you the first time." Heero's only movement was to adjust the grip on his mug. 

A muscle flickered in Duo's jaw, and his eyes narrowed. The mid-morning light bounced off his pupils, darkening the blue into a purple, highlighting the edges of his eyes to silver crescents like a scythe's blade. He didn't smile, and Heero was surprised to find he preferred Duo's jester smile over this strangely blank expression. 

"Clean out your ears, then," Duo replied, softly. "I want Trowa on the―" 

"No." Heero held Duo's gaze, refusing to be intimidated. "I'm the assassin. I will do this. Trowa will cover me, from the stage, and make sure Hilde and Enny get out of there. We have no room for failure." 

"I see," Duo said. His voice was sibilant, and he gently set his coffee mug on the floor. Without taking his eyes from Heero, Duo came to his feet, a gracefully feline move, and stalked past Heero to stare out the window. There was a long pause, and Heero waited. 

Trowa won't have the time to prepare, emotionally, let alone physically, Heero thought, arranging his mind in a logical order of argument. Five years wasn't enough time to undo my training, he continued silently, bracing himself for the explosive anger he could feel rolling off Duo. I've been working as an assassin for more than half my life, and we need my skills to make this job a success. If we fail, the cost could be our own lives. There's no other― 

"You're right." 

Heero opened his mouth, realized what Duo had said, and closed his jaw. 

Finally there was a rustle at the window, and Heero lifted his head, listening carefully. 

"I don't want you to do it," the Deathscythe pilot whispered, but his voice was hollow. 

Heero turned his head to see Duo was still looking out the window. Annoyed, Heero stood up, tilting his head as he watched the shorter man. "The job ―" 

"I'm not arguing with you." Duo didn't turn around. He was standing with his feet shoulder-width apart, arms crossed as he stared out into the colony's downtown sector. "I was just saying it for the record." Duo shrugged, and looked over his shoulder at Heero. His braid swayed behind him with the movement. There was a distant smile playing on Duo's lips, but it faded quickly. "Not much of a record we'll leave behind, though, will we." He turned, dropping his arms and kneeling as he picked up the list of locations for the explosive charges. 

Heero leaned against the wall and let his head drop. Wary, he watched Duo from beneath the overgrown bangs shadowing his eyes. Duo was sitting on his heels, plucking the papers aside and letting them drop, searching for something. 

"Here's the time table of the second day's schedule. I want you placing charges here, here, and here." Duo's finger stabbed at the arboretum and the top-floor gallery. "At six o'clock, when the dignitaries arrive for dinner, I'll go upstairs. I'm taking Enny with me, to run interference in case any of the rooms are being watched. She can distract any guards while I get in and get out." 

"You know which rooms to hit?" Heero kept his voice steady, his face in mission mode. 

Shinigami flashed that icy grin, and shrugged casually. "I'll get the list the morning the convention starts. Suze's boyfriend is at the front desk. I'm sure he'd be willing to print out a list of the final rooms for me, if I promise to cover Suze so they can make out in a closet somewhere." 

Heero nodded, and returned to his seat opposite Duo. 

"This is the laundry chute, which lets out down here..." Duo flipped through the schematics, pulling out the floor plan for the hotel's staff areas in the basement. "At seven o'clock, you've got to get Jeet into the staff areas, and he'll wait here..." 

They continued reviewing the parameters, tightening up the plans, until Duo had to leave for work. 

* * *

Heero sorted the papers, reviewing the plans one more time before carefully stacking them away. His chest was aching, and it took a second before he realized his hands were shaking. The dark-haired man placed both hands on the floor and leaned over, steadying himself with deep breaths as his hair fell in his face, blinding him. 

The scent of curry and wine lingered on the floor pillow beneath his knees. Heero swallowed hard and sat back, and continued straightening up the printouts. Sighing, he raised the list of targets before him, reviewing the list automatically. The rote action calmed him, and he steeled his heart into a position of indifference as he read out the list of names. 

Ellen Marie Scott. Nicholas Michael Volkov. Ninaj Janice Desir. Shuiichi Miyamura. Ian Christopher Ross. Iria Winner Marlowe. 

He rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, and set the list down. He still had laundry to do, and it was time to clean the bathroom again. Then he'd trade in his used books at the nearby bookstore, and see if there was anything new on the shelves since he'd last stopped by. He'd finished off the leftovers the night before, and he figured maybe he'd get some carry-out Chinese and pick up a movie while he was out. Cataloging the mundane evening tasks were oddly comforting, and Heero barely registered his automatic mental statement when he stacked Duo's list of tasks on top of the pile. 

Seven days to mission start. 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamian. I do, however, own a set of silverware wind chimes. Right now they're being abused by a certain stripey meatloaf known as Kiku No Baka, who seems to have decided that the kitchen table is a great place from which to bat at the wind chimes. Wait a minute. Turn off brain-part saying: cute! Turn on brain-part saying: HEY! GET OFF THE DAMN TABLE! 

Sincere thanks this chapter goes to Casey Valhalla, who added her heeroness to my heeroness and gave me the space to wrestle some understanding of duoness. Plus some beta'ing for the hackers, who remain one of my favorite groups of OCs to write. It looks like they may even make an appearance in person, near the end of the story. 

KatsyKat: glad the feeling of dread came through...I didn't want to overwhelm the chapter, but it had to be in there. And now, it's the Next Morning (so to speak) and Heero's faced the music. To a certain extent, I suppose. Hope it lived up to your expectations! 

Crimson: Woooh, you're back! I was wondering where you'd wandered off to. Heero's photographs...well, I think in some ways it's not the end result that matters to him, but the process of creating them. It's a type of therapy for him, to become more human, so when he sent the pictures off to Bernie (presumably so the agent could pick the good ones, print them, and continue to act as though Heero were still around), Heero was in fact pushing aside that therapy and going back to the Soldier. 

Suiryoku: Yeah, I'm almost frightened at the notion of how much damage Duo would cheerfully do if I actually let him have a flamethrower. I mean, that's just not a good thing. However, I'm afraid I can't tell you one way or another about Iria, or any of the other targets. I can only tell you that Heero's made up his mind to fulfill the job of killing them. That's about all that's settled, at this point. Stay tuned! 

Nihyaku: Heero? Cute? Hmph, and I was going for Lethally Dangerous but Still Decent In Bed. Bwahaha. So very happy you're liking the story! 

Asuka kureru: *gives Asuka an innocent look* ...Oh, this is supposed to end happily. Well, mostly happily. I think. I'm hoping. I'd like it to. Does that reassure you at all? ;-) 

GoldenRat: I don't like Heero's plan to revert to Soldier, either, but what the story demands...I never said this one was going to be easy. I just hope I make it interesting. 

Mashiro Karasu: You can find a copy of the Irish Wolf by doing a search for "irish wolf" and "bona na croin" on google. Fanfiction.net and Mediaminer.org have formatted problems if I put the URL in here. Eventually I'll dig up the tattoo design I did and post it on my own site. I'll try to remember to do that in the next day or two. How's that sound? :-) 

Firefaery: Well, I like torturing readers. I'm evil. I admit it! *ahem* You're the first person to mention Duo's response at the nursing home comment, so I'm glad to see it wasn't completely lost on everyone. I want subtle, but not completely invisible. 

Shinimegami82: how's that story coming? :D 

Also, thanks to all who suggested various tattoo concepts for Duo: Lilli, Kieran, DeeEzBee, Moffit, Scythe, REI, Koyote, Veti the Yeti, Morgan, and Arithkenshin. And many thanks also to those who wrote me offline: Nlp, RurouniTriv, and CleverYoungThief. 

Next chapter: the mission begins... 


	41. our dreams will have to serve

**03 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

These memories, too, are bound to die   
so our dreams will have to serve us.  
Tomorrow may be the day that our love betrays us  
― Michael Timmons 

Five days. 

Heero spent the afternoon with Frank, testing the AK-15 in a soundproofed room. It wasn't a range, but at least he could fire into the tank and test the gun's accuracy. After an hour of dismantling, reassembling, and adjusting the equipment, he nodded, once. Without another word, he left the weapon with Frank. He'd see it again soon enough. 

Three days. 

Hilde, Enny, and Jeet arrived. The hotel maids brought down a package for Duo, which turned out to be the latest in communications technology. Each of them would be wearing one. Duo spent several hours testing the hotel security's system to determine the safest wavelength, and left one set for Heero to find in the morning. Three sets were returned to Hilde's room, and the fourth was set aside for Trowa in the space soon to be occupied by a Kimber 1911AX and two loaded magazines. 

Two days. 

Everything in the apartment was packed except the futon and floor pillows. Jeet arrived at the door, looking remarkably clean-cut; his blue hair had been stripped back to its natural blond. For a second, Heero gaped, thinking he was seeing a brown-eyed Quatre. Then the moment passed and Jeet was gone with their suitcases. Even their coats were taken, and the dark-haired man sighed, not looking forward to wearing an old sweatshirt to work rather than his comfortable leather jacket. They would be leaving the hotel wearing only what was on their backs. Duo had taken the laptop to the hotel already. Heero wandered aimlessly through the apartment, a little adrift. He read his last book, until it was time for bed. 

Day one. 

General surveillance equipment was in place before breakfast. Duo left word that Enny had left the collection of bugs under the second planter from the right by the main gallery's door, and Heero busied himself leaving bugs around the general areas as he assisted the setup for the convention's first luncheon. By dusk, Enny, Jeet and Hilde had left the remaining devices, and the laptop was situated behind ductwork in the hotel's laundry room, unobtrusively recording everything the devices picked up. All top-floor charges were in place, with timers set, except for the arboretum. It was closed for pesticide spraying prior to the convention. Heero would have to set those on Day Two. 

At lunch the first day, Heero nearly walked into Hilde as he navigated his way through the people seating themselves. Her black hair was slicked into a bob, and she was wearing a string of freshwater pearls. The girl next to her was hanging on a man's arm, chatting happily, and Heero blinked, belatedly identifying Enny only because she was wearing the red dress he'd bought. Her shoulder-length hair was down, falling in soft auburn curls around her face. Jeet, on Hilde's other side, was accompanying an older woman. The three friends could pass for two socialites attended by their younger brother. Heero noted the changes in their appearance, but otherwise ignored them. 

Duo left a note for Heero in his work locker. He'd seen Trowa when the man had accompanied several dancers down to the loading dock for a smoke break. The Heavyarms pilot didn't say much, playing his role as a stranger, but had accepted the palmed note with his usual stoic flare. When Duo had joined other staff to watch the dancers practice in an empty meeting room, Trowa's hair was pulled back in a ponytail, the hair standing out sharply from his head in a pinwheel. He'd read the note and understood. Trowa was in place and ready. 

Day two, 10:00 am, standard time. 

Conventions are too much work, Heero decided, grimacing as he pulled on his work shoes in the hotel locker room. His black uniform pants were slim, but stiff, and he bundled his black jeans into a ball and shoved them into his locker. The white shirt was pressed, its band collar standing straight against his neck. The sleeves were pristine, and he tried not to think about blood on snow. 

12:00 pm, standard time. 

All targets were present for lunch, and Heero satisfied his need for precision by naming each of them mentally as he helped bring out the luncheon specials to each table. Wine was poured for table three but Miyamura only drank the water. Replacement silverware delivered to the heavy-set Ross at table seventeen who kept dropping his fork. Salads were brought to table nine, with dressing on the side for Desir. 

2:00 pm, standard time. 

The convention hall was dressed down, and the linens were ripped from the tables to be replaced with new ones. Sixteen staff, including Duo and Heero, bustled in and out, preparing the large room for the evening's entertainment. Most of the attendees were in various meetings around the hotel, or were standing in the hallways gossiping during breaks. Heero kept his head down, forcing himself to focus supervising the flower arrangement placements, instead of fingering the slim headset and mike pickup in his pocket. He noticed a dark-skinned man in a hotel uniform delivering additional linens to the maid's closet. It was only after the man had left that Heero realized it had been Green. 

3:00 pm, standard time. 

Snacks were delivered to each of the meeting rooms. Heero passed Duo in the hallway, flirting with a young redhead that Heero was pretty sure was Suze. Shaking his head, he gritted his teeth at the involuntary assumption that he'd need to chastise Duo for leaving the hotel room registry until too late. Before he could throw a glare in his teammate's direction, Frank was sending him down to the kitchen for more bottles of the pinot noir for the Winchester meeting room. 

5:00 pm, standard time. 

The last preparations were being made for dinner, and the catering manager made a final sweep of the dining room before announcing the staff had out-done itself. Heero made his way to the kitchen, dropping off last-minute directions for the sous chefs on his way to the locker room. He was on the early schedule, like Duo. They passed each other in the hallway, but said nothing. 

5:30 pm, standard time. 

In the locker room, Heero kept his dress shirt on, crinkling his nose at the smell of the shirt he'd left in the locker. Slipping out of his dress pants, he pulled on the jeans and tied up his boots, wrapping the laces twice around the ankles for stability. The comm device went on his head, tucking around behind his ear, with the mike retracted into the brace. Heero tugged at his bangs, studying the effect in the locker room mirror, before determining the comm was as well hidden as it could be. He watched, impassive as his face settled into the old hard lines of wartime. He left the locker room, and went up to place the last of the charges around the arboretum. 

6:00 pm, standard time. 

Appetizers were being served. Heero made his way to the balcony, which would be closed off to guests until after dinner. The dancers were out, and the dark-haired man admired the modern dance, the spare movements. He had been expecting something garish, crass, but found himself getting lost in the acrobatic displays of the lean, taut bodies gracing the stage. A leg's extension, held for several minutes, the hand gestures delicate and strong. Heero wasn't sure which one was Trowa; the men's bodies all seemed so similar, even stripped down to only tights. Raw power in action, he thought, and leaned against the column as he turned on the set for the first check-in. 

6:05 pm, standard time. 

"Reporting in," Heero announced into his comm. 

"Ditto," Hilde's voice came through. "In the ladies' room, though, so give me a minute." 

"Did you have to tell us?" Duo's voice echoed strangely. "In place, seventh floor." 

"I'm with stupid," Enny's cheerful voice announced. There was a muffled exclamation, and she could be heard giggling. 

"At the loading dock," Jeet added. His voice wavered a little, and then regained its composure. "I know I'm early...sorry." 

"I'll be right there," Heero told him. "Over and out." 

He nudged the comm-mike by rubbing his chin against his shoulder until it was retracted fully but left the system connected. Ducking quietly through the staff door, he made his way down to the hotel's basement floor to let Jeet in. The kid would spend the next hour sitting in the laundry room, and Heero shook his head. He'd be more comfortable if the kid were back on L2, but as long as Jeet was there, they'd use him. 

6:20 pm, standard time. 

Heero was back in location on the balcony, watching the dancing from behind the large columns arching up to the three-story ceiling over the dining area. The lights weren't as low as he expected, but he had the target locations memorized from watching them enter. He'd also done some last-minute clandestine rearrangement of a few nameplates, to place all six targets within a shorter distance of each other. 

"How you doing up there?" Hilde's voice came through as a whisper in Heero's ear. 

"Fine," Heero replied curtly. 

"Oh, chill, handsome, I can't see you," she retorted, and it was clear from her tone that she was wearing a smile. 

"Keep it down, I'm being stealthy up here," Duo suddenly broke in with a soft laugh. "Blue hair, listen up, deliveries coming your way in a few." 

"Ready, boss," the young man's voice came over the system. 

"Incoming," Enny announced, and the mike picked up a strange swishing sound. A second later Jeet swore, then giggled under his breath. 

"Sorry. All clear, looks like...what the fuck?" There was a clattering sound, then a muffled curse. "Geez, people, you could've warned me." 

"Got another one coming your way in a few," Enny replied smartly. "Be ready." 

"Alright." 

Heero nodded; satisfied the schedule was going according to plan. 

6:40 pm, standard time. 

The dancers were off-stage, to a rousing applause, and dinner was being served. The lights had come up, but only by a fraction, and Heero watched, relieved. He needed the low light. Broad daylight levels would only make his job more difficult. 

"Another set, coming down." Enny's voice broke into Heero's concentration. 

"Ready down here," Jeet replied. 

"Reporting in." Trowa's level tenor was met with a quiet laugh from Hilde. 

Her mike had been on for some time, but picked up only ambient noise. The mike pickup wasn't extended, Heero thought. Given the babble of the crowd below him, it hadn't been a distraction. 

"Find everything?" Enny asked Trowa. 

"All where it belongs," he replied. 

"Where I belong is eating some of that food," Duo cut in. "Instead ― damn this stupid thing." There was a sound of someone sighing against the mike pickup. "Okay. Enny?" 

"Got it." 

There was radio silence for several minutes, and Heero continued to wait. 

6:50 pm, standard time. 

Heero let himself into the maid's closet, and within seconds was kneeling by the duct. Pounding once in each corner with the heel of his hand, he pulled out the Kimber, cocked it, and shoved it into the back of his jeans under his shirt. Then he dragged out the sniper rifle, checked the ammunition, and slammed it home, cocking the rifle. Grabbing a tablecloth, he spread it over a rolling table, loaded up the extra magazines in his back pockets. He lay the rifle across the bottom shelf of the table and pushed it out of the closet. 

6:55 pm, standard time. 

"Okay, get ready for fireworks. We're almost done closing up shop," Duo announced abruptly. 

"How much longer?" Trowa. 

"Three more rooms." 

"We've got company," Enny whispered. "I'm on it." 

"I'm out of the way," Hilde broke in to say. "Found everything, too. Very nice." 

"Compliment the chef later," Duo snapped. His voice was harsh, a low whisper. 

"No more talking unless necessary from here on out," Heero ordered. 

The comm link was silent in response. 

7:00 pm, standard time. 

The orchestra had begun playing, some fiery piece by a modern composer. The brass section was overpowering, and Heero thanked whoever designed the dirty acoustics in the dining room. Hopefully he'd be able to get at least four shots off before anyone registered the noise independent of the hits. 

Heero knelt down by the balcony railing, pulled the rifle out from the table's lower shelf, lifted it up, and set the butt against his shoulder. He turned off the laser site, certain that the red dot would be too easily recognizable by any former military present in the gathering. Taking a deep breath, he centered himself and let instinct and training take over. 

Table seven, third woman to the right. Scott. 

Heero fired. 

The popping noise was barely audible above the orchestra's brassy clamor. The woman in the red dress slumped over. The Asian woman on her right turned, a puzzled look on her face. 

Table six, two people seated side by side. Volkov. Desir. 

Heero fired, adjusted his aim, and fired again. 

The redheaded man fell backwards against his chair back. The red bloom staining his white shirt was clearly visible. The woman at his side twisted a little in her seat, falling to the side into the lap of the person next to her. Her hair was brown, but the white streak at her forehead shone in the candlelight. 

Table nine, fifth man from the front. Miyamura. 

Heero fired. 

The Asian man was in the middle of raising his wine glass to his lips, and it fell with a sparkling shatter. The woman next to him turned, froze, and then came to her feet with a high-pitched shriek. 

"The crowd has caught on," Hilde announced, and her voice came through loud and clear. She'd just pulled the mike arm down. Heero distantly noted the sound of her gun being cocked. He ignored it. 

Table eight, man at the far left. Ross. 

Heero fired. 

The large blond man snapped bolt upright with the slam of the bullet into his chest, before his head slowly lolled to one side. The woman next to him began screaming, joining the rest of the crowd's panicked voices as the convention slowly caught on. Someone else at the table jumped up, shoving the woman to the side in a rush to get to the injured man. 

Table eight, woman three seats over. Marlowe. 

Heero fired. 

He was hit at the exact same instant. 

The blonde woman slumped sideways in her chair. Heero registered the success even as his own chest exploded in pain. He stumbled to his feet, throwing himself behind the cement column as another gunshot ricocheted off the balcony. The high-pitched twang echoed sharply in his ears. More screams echoed through the large room. Somewhere, glass broke. 

"I'm hit," he gasped, his entire body shuddering as his back slammed up against the column. "Left shoulder. Clavicle possibly broken." 

"We're done up here," Duo reported. 

"Incoming," Enny added. "Fuck, we've―" 

A gunshot echoed through the comm link, followed by two louder shots in rapid succession. Heero put a hand to his ear, wincing at the volume, and waited. He could feel the blood pounding in his veins, dripping down his chest, filling the cup of his palm gripping the rifle. 

"Fuck is right," Duo suddenly said, his voice cold but amused. "You got that?" The question was barely picked up by the mike. 

"All mine," Enny replied softly. "Hang in there, buddy." 

"Status," Heero barked. 

"Nothing we can't handle," the Deathscythe pilot said. "You?" 

"Stage one complete," Heero replied. 

"On my way over," Trowa interrupted. "Meet me at the stairs." 

"Covering you," Hilde told him, louder. Her mike was picking up a woman sobbing. "Where's the return fire coming from? Did you see?" 

There was a third shot. 

"Table eight," Heero told her. 

Heero grimaced as he moved his left arm. He could use the handgun, but his accuracy in the low light was much better with the rifle. Its scope could compensate for the loss of accuracy due to his injured shoulder. The dark-haired man grunted as he instinctively ejected the magazine, then slammed it back into place. Four more rounds. 

Another shot rang out. It hit the column behind him. Heero glanced both ways. The balcony was mostly open, but if he headed straight for the wall and hung a left, hugging the wall, he should be out of sight of anyone on the lower level. His shoulder was soaked in blood. His left hand slipped on the rifle, and he barely registered his left hand was covered in blood as well. 

"On it," Hilde said, and gasped. "Shit." 

A fourth shot hit the column, just above Heero's head. The cement chipped, breaking small pieces into his hair, and he silently cursed. The return fire was angling to the side. The person was coming closer, probably heading for the stairs. Before he could say anything, gunfire echoed through the room, but louder in his ear. Hilde had returned fire. 

"Get out of there," the woman hissed. "I didn't get him. He's taken cover." She fired twice more with no delay between the shots, then cursed softly. "Too many people in the way," she reported louder. 

"Moving," Heero answered, and focused on the wall seventy feet away. Below him, the crowd's roar had reached a frenetic pitch. 

7:09 pm, standard time. 

"Incoming," Duo broke in. 

"Ready down here," Jeet responded. "Everything's packed." 

"You have got to be fucking kidding―" Enny's voice was cut off with a sudden shout. Heero winced and bolted for the wall. A fifth shot hit the column behind him, the report loud against the sudden radio silence. 

"All clear, boss," Jeet cried. His mike was picking up muffled sounds of a woman cursing a blue streak, and the boy laughed. "Come on down." 

"Be right there," Duo replied. There was a thumping sound, and the mike picked up Duo's icy laughter. His voice was faint. He wasn't talking into the comm directly. "Okay, kid, you know what to do." 

Heero hit the wall, grunted, and braced himself against the cool plaster surface. He hefted the rifle in his left hand, trying to get a better grip around the blood coating his palm. The butt was still cradled against his right elbow, and he brought himself upright with a concerted effort. Mission mode, he reminded himself. Feel the pain later. 

"Almost there," Trowa said. "Hel, get out of here." 

"No way," she replied, angry. 

"Taking the stairs," Heero said, started down. He'd take the staff back stairs, but Trowa didn't have a way into the staff area. Heero damned the oversight of not forging a pass card for the Heavyarms pilot. His shirt was pasted to his body, and each step made the fabric shift against the wound. 

"You go ahead," Duo's voice could be heard, faintly. "We'll be right after you." 

"Got it," Jeet said. 

7:11 pm, standard time. 

Heero stepped off the bottom step. People were shoving each other to get to the exit doors, thirty feet away from him. He contemplated dropping the rifle, then saw the gun muzzle flare a split second before the report. Heero froze. A sixth shot hit the wall just in front of him, and he spun, bringing up the rifle. 

"Preventers! Freeze!" 

Quatre was standing twenty feet away, his gun aimed point-blank at Heero. 

"You shot my sister," the Sandrock pilot hissed. His Ruger 9mm was steady, braced with both hands as he took aim on Heero. Two men in suits flanked Quatre. Their guns were trained on Heero. 

He took a heartbeat to swear. Preventers. 

"Drop the gun," Quatre warned. "I only miss on purpose. I won't do it again." 

Heero took another heartbeat to measure the three men, flexing his left hand around the AK-15's barrel. His right arm was bent a little at the elbow, ready to reach for his own handgun. He just needed a split second, but he wasn't going to get it. The crowd's panicked screaming faded into the background, and he slowly bent his legs, coming down on one knee as he gently placed the rifle on the floor. 

"Push it away," the blond ordered. 

Heero didn't take his eyes off Quatre, and gave the rifle a strong shove with his left hand. There was a splatter of blood on the marble floor from his movement. The gun skittered sideways to hit a planter at the bottom of the steps. 

"Now get up," Quatre said, but he didn't motion with his gun. It remained steady, tracking Heero's movements. 

"Drop your guns," a second voice suddenly interrupted. There was a click of a hammer coming down. Trowa was parallel to Quatre, his gun aimed at the blond diplomat. 

One of the men swung his gun towards Trowa, startled. Heero twisted, leaping from his crouch and pulling the handgun from his jeans at the same time. He brought it up in a smooth one-handed action and fired twice. Quatre pivoted to face Trowa, and the Heavyarms pilot fired immediately. Quatre went down. 

Heero's shots hit the first Preventer in the leg and the Preventer in the shoulder. Quatre was clutching at his stomach. He shouted something, but Heero didn't bother to listen, already thrusting himself to his feet as Trowa grabbed him. 

"Can you move," Trowa asked, and Heero nodded. They headed for the door, Heero's left arm curled against his body. Behind him, Trowa ran nearly backwards, his gun aimed at the three men on the floor. 

7:15 pm, standard time. 

Hilde met them at the door, her right hand straight at her side, trying to mask the gun in the folds of her short dress. She blanched at the site of Heero's blood-soaked shirt but her expression hardened quickly. Trowa slung his coat over her shoulders, and she jumped slightly. 

"Use it to hide the gun," he instructed her. 

Hilde nodded, glancing over to Heero. "You okay?" Heero simply glared at her, and she turned to Trowa. "Your ride's waiting." 

Trowa nodded and took a right down the main hallway. He'd changed after the dance into a suit and slacks, and the conservative clothes merged seamlessly with the rest of the panicking business people heading for the hotel's front doors. 

"Where're the rest of us?" Hilde asked. Several more people shoved past them, and Heero gritted his teeth as several bumped into his injured shoulder. 

"Take a left," he replied, and pointed. Hilde passed several people, while Heero took rear position. His gaze was fixed on the receding dining room as the three were swept along in the hotel's panic. A shudder rocked the building. The fire alarm kicked in, its claxon blaring in their ears. 

"First charges going off," Hilde yelled into the mike. 

"We're waiting for you," Duo's voice came through the mike, barely audible over the alarm sounds reverberating through the broad halls. 

A woman stepped into the hallway ahead of them, her body braced against the people pushing past her, a gun in her hand. 

"Freeze!" The woman took aim. 

Heero turned at the shout, but his team leader was in the way. 

Hilde fired. 

The woman slumped back against the wall, the gun dropping from her hand. Slowly she slid down the wall as the two passed. Hilde spared a single glance in her direction. 

"I shot Sally," Hilde announced flatly into the mike. "The place is crawling with Preventers." 

"Let the dead bury the dead," Duo replied. 

"Cops coming your way," Enny warned. "You stay there," she could be heard saying. "Not you two, the bonehead next to me." 

"Enough," Heero barked. He shoved the gun inside the back of his jeans, and ducked his head as they came up to a uniformed man. 

7:17 pm, standard time. 

"Shit, another victim?" The hotel security guard shouted, trying to get their attention. "There're ambulances waiting. Go that way," he yelled, and Heero saw several people split off to the right to follow the man's order. Heero took cover under the confused crowd and grabbed Hilde by the hand, pulling her towards the restaurant. 

Another explosion shook the building, and the people milling in the restaurant began to run for the exit doors. Hilde stayed behind Heero as cops and firemen burst into the restaurant to help people out. One of the officers approached them, and Hilde put her shoulder under Heero's arm. 

"He was hit," she told the officer. 

Before the man could respond, a gurney appeared. Heero didn't protest as several hands helped him lay down on it. His sight was narrowing, and he bit his lip as the blood loss started to impinge on his peripheral vision. Clenching his right hand in a fist, he nodded to whatever the emergency medical technician was saying. The next thing he knew, two EMTs were pushing the gurney as Hilde followed. He blinked, focusing on the ceiling as they moved through the kitchen to the staff elevator. 

One of the EMTs slipped a pass card across the elevator system controls, granting them access, and the doors slid open. As soon as the gurney was pushed through, Heero sat up. 

"Get me off this damn thing," he ordered, but firm hands pushed him back down. 

A face came into Heero's sight, and he blinked slowly as the elevator came to a halt. The face grinned, a cruel expression, and the deep blue eyes stared at him levelly. The person was dressed in white, but when Heero turned his head, he could see red seeping through the uniform and soaking the other man's hip. 

"Messy," Duo said, and grinned, pulling down the mike to speak into it directly. "How's the ride?" 

"On our way," came the reply from Trowa. It was a little scratchy as he left the commlink's radius. 

7:22 pm, standard time. 

The doors slid open and Enny was gone with a flip of her red skirt. Heero could feel the gurney being pushed, and Duo was shouting to someone about more injured people being upstairs. The hotel shook again in rapid succession as the rest of the charges went off. The lights went dead, but the group continued to run down the staff hallway. A second later the generator kicked in, and the emergency lights turned the hallway red. Heero could see firemen and staff managers appearing as they passed. Duo yelled at all of them to get out of the way. Heero could hear Hilde sobbing. Her hand was on his uninjured shoulder as she helped push the cart. 

"Move," Duo barked, and Heero was yanked from the gurney. Blinking, he stumbled into the back of the ambulance. Enny was in the driver's seat. "It's the pedal to the far right," he yelled. 

Heero grunted and sank down on a side seat, holding his left arm close to his body. Across from him, Duo's face was pale, but his smile was fixed. He was stripping off his blood-soaked EMT shirt to reveal a black long-sleeved shirt underneath. 

"Give me the all-clear," the pimp ordered. 

"Doors closed," Hilde called. Her voice was remarkably calm for someone who'd been sobbing melodramatically a minute before, Heero thought distantly. He braced himself with his right arm as the ambulance pulled away from the loading dock. There was a pause, then the vehicle's alarms started up. Through the front window Heero could see red and blue light bouncing off the concrete pillions in the garage. 

"Let me strap you in," Hilde told Heero. He leaned out of the way so she could pull the straps out from behind him, and glared at her when her hands strayed too near his injured shoulder. He turned his head to see Duo struggling to buckle himself in. Hilde was already wearing an EMT's shirt over her dress. 

The ambulance came to a stop, and Heero craned his neck to see Enny lowering the window. 

"You guys got here fast," a deep voice said. 

"First on the scene," Enny replied, the barest hint of tension in her voice. If the officer noticed, he chalked it up to the young woman's next words. "Two Preventers." 

"Oh, in that case," the man replied. Heero could see the man's hand waving them on past the barricade of police cars and fire trucks. People were shouting outside the vehicle, and the ambulance's movement was impeded for several seconds. 

"Damn sightseers," Enny muttered, and shouted over her shoulder. "How are they?" 

"Stable," Hilde replied. "Get us to the ship pronto." 

Enny said something in the affirmative and the ambulance picked up speed. The siren was still screaming, and Heero pushed it out of his awareness. Heero closed his eyes as Hilde prodded his shoulder. 

"Bullet's still in there," she told him, and repeated it louder for Enny's benefit. 

"How's Day?" Enny yelled a warning as the ambulance took an abrupt corner. 

Hilde looked up from her investigation of Duo's hip. "Skimmed, but deep. He'll need stitches." 

7:30 pm, standard time. 

A minute later Heero was being unstrapped. He shuddered at the cold plastic under his left hand. Too much blood loss, his mind registered, and he shook his head slightly. Across from him, Duo was also unbuckled, a gun in his hands as he watched the street behind them through the ambulance window. The vehicle rolled to a stop. Hilde had the back door open immediately. She'd stripped off the EMT shirt and put Trowa's coat back on. Her gun was tucked in the front pocket. 

"We're at the back door for the shipping station," Hilde told them. "Focus, you two, we're not out of the woods yet." 

Heero hit the ground running alongside Duo, Hilde ahead and Enny directly behind. There were four police officers at the main entrance fifty yards away. Heero tugged his gun out, holding it close against his stomach to make it less obvious. Duo's breathing was ragged, but he was grinning like a maniac. 

"They're locking the doors," the thief called to Hilde. "Improvise!" 

She nodded, and paused to snag Enny by the hand. The two women peeled off, aiming for the station's main office. 

Duo turned to Heero, a cold smile on his face. "Come on, Soldier, can't let their work go to waste." 

"You made it." Trowa's laconic voice came through the headset. "We're loaded. Get those doors unlocked." 

"On it," Hilde snapped. 

Heero and Duo put on a burst of speed, pure adrenaline, and came alongside the ship as it muscled its way forward without a station tug. The engines flared under the belly, and the back cargo hold was open. Duo leapt up, Heero right behind him. Both turned immediately, guns at the ready. 

"Hurry, girls," Duo said. "Wouldn't be a party without you." 

"Doors opening," Enny's voice replied. There was the sound of gunfire, and she cursed fluently. The Deathscythe pilot laughed. Heero scowled and kept his gun trained on the four police officers. The men were just beginning to realize something was happening in the station while they were busy checking people at the main entrance. "Hel, party favors?" 

"All set," came the reply. "Move your ass!" 

"We've got you," Duo yelled as the two women appeared, sprinting from the main office hand-in-hand. Their path to the ship was clear, but the lack of pedestrians meant no cover. One of the officers turned, shouting something inaudible. The ship lurched forward. Trowa was forcing the metal hulk out of its grooves and into the way of another ship, edging nearer to the takeoff chamber. 

The first officer raised his gun, taking aim. 

Hilde and Enny were eighty feet from the back of the ship, running full-speed. 

Heero fired. The gun's report shattered the silence in his ears. The man went down, clutching his leg. 

Fifty feet. 

A second officer could faintly be heard to yell, and the third officer raised his gun. 

Twenty feet. 

Duo fired. The man fell backwards, knocking into the second officer. 

Ten feet. 

The fourth officer fired. 

Enny stumbled. Blood exploded from her side. 

Duo returned fire. The officer doubled over. 

Hilde yanked on Enny's arm, and the two women jumped. They nearly flew into the cargo hold due to the station's low grav, slamming against the back wall. Hilde instantly began trying to stand, imbalanced with one hand in her coat pocket. Heero reached up and punched his fist against the cargo door lock. Behind him Hilde came to her feet, one arm outstretched as she depressed the detonator she'd been carrying. 

The station office exploded. Duo covered his face instinctively as shrapnel blew outwards. At the same moment the ship's cargo doors slid shut and locked. 

"Get up here," Trowa shouted from the front. 

The engines complained loudly and the ship jumped forward into the airlock chamber. Hilde glanced at the two pilots, and then at Enny. The pimp grimaced as she stood up, holding her side. Blood was pouring down the pimp's leg and pooling around the top of her boot. 

"No rough sex for awhile," the woman cracked. 

"I'm going up front," Hilde told them. "Sending Jeet back here." 

Heero stayed where he was, slumped against the wall of the cargo hold, and looked over at the other man. Duo had crawled backwards to the wall, leaving a smear of blood from his hip as he moved. The gun was still in his hands, and his head was down between his raised knees. Hilde's feet pounded up the main hallway. Enny fell to her knees with a moan. 

"Drop the gun, Day," she said quietly. There was a stifled gasp as she tried to sit back on her heels. "Drop it. I'm not coming any closer until you do." 

A clatter made Heero raise his head, and he looked over to see Shinigami's smile. 

"The bloodbath wasn't supposed to be ours," Duo muttered. Footsteps in the door made them each look up. Jeet was standing there, his face ashen in the ship's low light. 

"Enny," he cried, falling against the doorframe as the ship burst forward. Heero could hear metallic crashing sounds as the ship forced its way through the airlock chamber doors. Jeet sat up, crawling over to the woman. 

"Don't lose it on me, now," the young woman snapped. "Help Hito get to Trey's bunk. I'll get Day." 

Jeet nodded, approaching Heero tentatively. The dark-haired man started to tuck his gun away, then thought better of it and left it on the floor. Grunting, he got to his feet, shaking off Jeet's help. Five steps and they were at the bunkroom door. Blindly Heero punched the door slide mechanism, and stumbled into the room. 

The back of his head hit the pillow, and he bit back a groan as the muscles moved around the injury. Jeet was lifting his legs onto the bed. The room faded, then Heero opened his eyes to see a blond head leaning over him. For a second he was about to call a different name, then caught his slip at the last minute and merely glared. 

"What time is it?" His voice sounded hoarse. 

"Five after eight," Jeet replied. "You want something for the pain? Enny says we're gonna have to dig the bullet out." 

8:05 pm, standard time, Heero thought. Fifty-nine days, two hours, eighteen minutes, and ten bullets since he'd arrived on L4. 

"Just give me something to bite on," he told Jeet. "And warn me first." 

"I'll do that," the young man whispered, his brown eyes wide. "But you can take the meds if you want them. We're in stealth mode. We're out, safe. Heading to L2 now." 

Heero nodded, already fading back into unconsciousness. 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamian. I do, however, own an empty box of matches that's a match set with my empty box of nifty Chinese incense. Looks like it's time for another trip to Chinatown... 

I promised the mission this chapter, and you got it. Damn. Hm. I suppose the last chapter had too many people reeling, hence the low number of responses. Either that, or everyone fell asleep halfway through when it became obvious that Duo wasn't going to flip. At least, not at that point. 

Many thanks again to Casey Valhalla, who dutifully waded through MSN crap and non-sending email to finally, valiantly, provide me with some solid editing commentary. Whew. 

Asuka Kureru: If you were angsted before, I can't imagine how you're feeling right now. 

Maldorer: Lemons are hard to write as physical realistic encounters, I find. It would be so much easier if I went the "fantastic sex without much reality" route, but that just doesn't seem right for this story. I highly recommend beta readers for lemons, too. 

Nlp: Get that, I didn't even make you wait for the second half. I was considering it – stopping right as Quatre shows up – but decided even I couldn't possibly be that cruel. Aren't you happy? 

JuliTina: I can't even think of where to begin a reply, other than to say: wow. Uh, wow. Did I mention, wow? You made my week! Heero does smile in the series, even if he's rather shy about it. But it's there; he's not an automaton. And I think, with therapy, he'd work harder (being the perfectionist in many ways) to expand that side of himself. But it doesn't exist at the same time as the Soldier, at least not in his head. Hopefully this chapter didn't bring you down off the high of finding the story! :D 

Nihyaku: Heero is still lethal, as is Duo, as are all the pilots, make no bones about it. And I adore the hackers...but no one's commented yet on poor Mike's complaint. Heh. I guess with everything else going on... 

Many thanks to those folks writing me offline: Tyr, CZ, Moffit, Okaasan, Morgan, ArithKenshin, RurouniTriv, and CleverYoungThief. 


	42. neither was it great

**03 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

It never used to be that bad, but neither was it great  
Somewhere in the middle then, content and much too safe  
Oh, tell me please, why it takes so long  
To realize when there's something wrong  
― Neil Finn 

"Jeet, go boil water." 

Heero grunted, opening his eyes as his sight resolved into the underside of a ship's bunk bed. He was still on Trowa's bed, and there was an IV in his right arm. The bag was red. Heero shifted his left arm experimentally. Pain exploded in his body. 

"Don't move," the voice said, then Trowa was leaning over him. 

"Boil water?" Heero's voice croaked from the effort. "I'm not pregnant." 

"It gives him something to do," Trowa said, and smiled tightly. "I've got enough distilled water, I think." 

"How'd that happen?" His sight blurred, and Heero blinked a few times, and closed his eyes. Scissors snipped nearby, and he realized Trowa was already cutting his shirt away. 

"Hel and Enny cleared out the ambulance ahead of time." Trowa smiled, then swore under his breath. "Here." 

Heero felt the nudge at his lips, and opened his mouth, accepting the folded up rag without protest. After a second, he nodded his readiness. His body stiffened in pain as Trowa prodded at the wound, and he grunted with the effort of holding still. 

"The bullet's lodged against the underside of the shoulder bone," Trowa reported calmly. "It missed the sub-clavicle artery. Your clavicle's not broken, but it's visibly fractured." 

The bunkroom door slid open, and Hilde appeared over Trowa's shoulder. "He's eating it," she said. "You were right." Heero grunted at another touch from Trowa, and raised his eyebrows at the petite brunette, who grinned smugly. "I pounded drugs into the food. Day thinks the bitterness is just my normal cooking." 

"Hel, I'm going to need you to hold his arm." 

The taller man got up for a second, letting Hilde get in position. Heero turned his head just enough to see Trowa returning with several blankets. One he spread across Heero, and the other he laid on the floor for Hilde to kneel on. The bed creaked as Trowa sat down, handing Hilde a flashlight. The overhead lights were on, but Hilde and Trowa would be in the way. 

"Hold that, too." There was a pause, and Trowa's hand landed softly on Heero's chest. "Here we go again," he whispered, and Heero nodded, closing his eyes. 

There was an intense sensation of blinding pain, and Heero tensed. Then he let go, willing himself back into unconsciousness. 

* * *

"All done," Trowa announced, an eyebrow raised as Heero opened his mouth to let the man remove the saturated cloth. "Bullet out, one team leader done in." 

"Oh?" Heero's throat was dry, and he willingly accepted Trowa's help drinking a glass of water. 

"You went under, and she thought we'd lost you." His tone was dry, but amused. "Sit up. I need to bind your arm to your chest." 

"Not necessary." 

"Don't argue with me." Trowa shook his head, and the Heero gave him a crooked smile, groaning as he sat up. His left shoulder was numb, but the left side of his chest and his left arm were throbbing, a dull ache. Trowa removed the IV and wrapped the shoulder and arm, over the existing bandage. A minute later he was done, Heero's arm bound tightly to his chest. Trowa pulled a sweatshirt over Heero's head, and helped him get his right arm through. 

"Status," Heero said, once he was still and could concentrate on pushing the pain away from his awareness. He blinked, shook his head, winced as the muscles pulled in his shoulder, and swore under his breath. Five years since the last time he'd been shot, he thought, and gritted his teeth as he stood up. 

"The bullet went through Enny's side. Nicked the underside of her lowest rib. Seems to have missed the larger intestine, but if she goes septic, then we'll know it got hit." Trowa was wiping his hands with a damp cloth, and leant over. When he stood up, Heero was startled to see a large pile of bloody swabs in his hands. "Told Jeet to go play pilot." 

Heero's eyebrow twitched in the barest sign of amusement. "Day?" 

"Heavy blood loss. Ripped through the muscle. Nicked the hipbone. Gash is pretty wide. I'll need your help sewing him up." 

"What about Hel?" 

"Shock finally hit her." Trowa's face was impassive. "She's with Enny now." 

"What about you?" 

Trowa didn't answer as he left the bunkroom. Heero dragged himself to his feet, took a second to center himself, and followed the taller man into the other bunkroom to assist in surgery. 

* * *

Heero could assist with only one hand, but Jeet was needed to stabilize Duo on his side. The longhaired pilot was groggy from the painkiller, conscious enough to speak, but not in control enough of his muscles to hold himself in place. Jeet's face was pale as he clung to the edge of the bed, listening carefully as Trowa explained what they needed. 

Duo's chest and legs were covered in blankets, to help with the shock. He shivered involuntarily as Trowa removed the lower blankets before cutting off his jeans. 

"Great," the Deathscythe pilot mumbled, his face against the pillow. "Now everyone in this room has seen my dick." 

"Day," Heero replied sternly. "Shut up." 

"Are we going to be eighty, in some nursing home..." Duo's words were cut off. Jeet looked puzzled as Duo continued speaking softly. "And you'll still be telling me to shut up?" 

"If you spend the next sixty years talking this much, yes." 

Then Trowa pried back the edges of the wound, and it was enough that even in Duo's drugged state that he could feel the pain. He hissed, drawing breath in through his teeth. His fingers clenched on Jeet's arm. Trowa began digging through the muscle for the bone shards. Heero swabbed the blood, and eventually the only sounds were Jeet's panting as he tried to keep the light steady without watching. 

"Stupid drugs don't work," Duo finally said, as Trowa began cleaning the wound of cloth and dirt. "Damn doctors..." 

Heero raised an eyebrow and reached for another stack of surgical padding, using his teeth to rip open the package. Beside him, Trowa continued to work silently and efficiently, despite the blood coating his fingers and the medical tools. 

"I can't believe this," Jeet whispered. His pupils were dilated so far his brown eyes appeared jet-black. "Who are you people?" 

"Soldiers," Duo replied softly. 

"Yeah, but..." 

Trowa reached up without a word and steadied the flashlight in Jeet's hand. The young man blinked, startled, then seemed to refocus. 

"How do you know how to do this?" His question was directed at Trowa, who shrugged almost imperceptibly. The taller man didn't even pause as he washed the wound on Duo's hip. Jeet's voice quavered. "Soldiers don't learn this stuff." 

"I was a mercenary," Trowa said calmly. "You learn to do this young." 

"You killed people for money," Jeet translated. 

"What do you think we did today?" 

"I..." The flashlight shook, and Trowa paused, waiting. Jeet fought to keep calm. "I...thought we were just getting those computers. I didn't know..." 

"You didn't need to know," Heero told him. 

"But killing...for money," the young man retorted, his wide eyes taking in the entire scene. 

"Everyone has a price, kid," Trowa said. "Now, hold that light steady." His voice brooked no argument. 

The room was silent after that. 

* * *

Trowa sat back on his heels with a sigh, and rubbed at his forehead with the back of his hand. Duo's eyes opened slowly, and he shifted a little, then was still. Trowa's hands were deft as he began the quick work of bandaging the stitched area, ignoring Duo's muffled giggles as the taller man ran the wrap around Duo's upper thigh. Heero and Jeet helped Duo sit up, and Trowa wrapped the bandages a few times across Duo's hips. 

"Get me some sweatpants," Duo instructed Jeet. Once the pants were on, along with a warmer sweatshirt, Trowa gave Duo a hand up. The thief swayed for a second, an annoyed look on his face. "Stupid drugs. Wasn't necessary." 

"It wasn't for you," Heero replied smartly. "It was to save our ears." 

"Bastard." Duo's voice held no malice, though, and he shoved his feet into his boots, letting the laces drag. 

The bunkroom door slid open, and Hilde leaned into the room. Her face was drawn, the lines of exhaustion etched clearly on her features. 

"Hey, bro," she said casually. Her gaze darted to each man before she spoke. "We just got a channel. I think you should come see." 

Trowa gathered the bloody bandages, and followed Heero and Duo down the hall. Jeet was assisting Duo, and the longhaired man walked with a slight limp. Enny waved as the rest of the team entered. The pimp struggled to sit up, making room. Heero settled himself on the long bench, and Enny promptly laid her knees across his lap and covered them both with her blanket. Hilde settled down behind Enny, and let the other woman rest her head on Hilde's lap. Trowa sat in the chair by the door. Duo started to sit in his usual spot, wincing as he bent his hip. He gave up and leaned against the wall, motioning Jeet to take the seat. 

The control room's large screen was flickering as it strove to pick up the interstellar signals from an L4 news station. The lights were down, and the only illumination was from the screen and a single lamp over the computer desk. 

The commercial ended, the station identification rolled past, and the news anchor appeared. The gentleman's hair was perfect, his suit tailored, and his face was grave as he introduced the segment concerning the afternoon's tragedy. The station then cut to a young woman on the scene, fire trucks and police cars in the background. 

"This afternoon, one of L4's largest convention centers, in Sector Four, was the scene of a horrible tragedy. During the second day of a business convention for L4 economic development, gunshots rang out during dinner. Six shots were fired from a weapon police have identified as an AR-15, a type of semi-automatic rifle." 

The woman paused, and the camera panned across the building as she continued speaking. The scene showed the top-half of the left wing was mostly destroyed, with a number of windows on lower floors blown out, fire damage around their edges. "Bombs were also set off on the top floors, including the arboretum, and in several locations on the seventh and eighth floors. Five people are now dead, and four more in critical condition from gunshot wounds. Another fifty people were injured. Most were minor injuries, although fourteen people suffered smoke inhalation while being evacuated from the top floors." 

"What about the explosions on the top floors?" The camera cut back to the young woman, who had a hand to her ear, trying to hear over the sirens behind her, as the anchorman's voice continued. "Any word on that?" 

"Yes, some," the young woman replied. 

There was a hiss in the meeting room, and Heero glanced over to see Jeet gripping the chair's edge tightly. The young man was panting softly, open-mouthed. 

"A number of explosions went off at the same time," the woman was explaining. "The fire marshal's early determination is that these were bombs placed in and around the top levels, including the convention center's arboretum. Preliminary estimations of damage may top several million dollars in property damage." 

"We have Tom at Meridian General Hospital," the anchorman broke into say. "The hospital has just released several more victims' names, and he's standing by with that information. Tom?" 

"Yes, Rick," an older man answered, and the camera showed an elderly Asian man in front of the Meridian General Hospital. "Only a few minutes ago, another name was released. John Torres died of a gunshot wound to the chest. He was employed as a bodyguard by Vincent Borja. As viewers may already be aware, two of the sniper victims have been identified as Ellen Scott and Shuiichi Miyamura. Both died at the scene." The reporter's face was lean and drawn, his voice a rasp. "The third victim's name has not been released, nor has the name of the Preventer. We're also receiving indication that two additional victims were not shot, but had their necks snapped." 

Hilde looked confused, and glanced at Duo. The Deathscythe pilot gave her a nonchalant grin that didn't reach his eyes. 

"You said six shots were fired?" The camera jumped to show the anchorman looking intent. 

"Yes. Two of the shooting victims are in critical condition, and a third is currently in surgery," the older reporter replied. "Four Preventer agents acting as security for the event were also shot, possibly by the sniper or his associates. Their statuses have not been formally confirmed but we have preliminary word that one died, and one is in stable condition." 

Heero, curious, stole a glance at the Heavyarms pilot. Trowa's face was emotionless. 

"This is a horrible catastrophe," the anchorman interrupted to lament. 

Heero raised an eyebrow at the melodrama. Duo rolled his eyes. 

"Any good news," the anchorman prompted. His stern face relaxed into a caricature of hopefulness. 

"It's too early to tell, but an investigator on the scene has reported that the Preventers normally wear a type of body armor under their uniforms. This appears to be what saved the life of one of the Preventers, a..." The man glanced a notepad in his hand. "Sally Po." 

Hilde froze. Enny looked up at her, startled. Heero caught the movement from the corner of his eye. Hilde's eyes were wide and panicked. Heero could see her hand, white-knuckled, gripping Enny's arm. 

"You said four Preventers were shot," the anchorman replied. "Were all of them wearing this armor?" 

"Ah, yes and no," the reporter said, and his face creased as worry broke through his professional guise. "The armor only protects the chest area. The agent who died on the scene was hit in the thigh and died of blood loss." The reporter broke off for a second, swallowed hard, and continued. "Off the record, the word is that one of the Preventers was not actually on duty, and was not wearing the armor. He took a shot to his midsection. His status has not been released. The other Preventer is in critical condition, but stable, at an undisclosed location." 

Quatre, Heero thought, and glanced over at Trowa. The man's detached expression was unchanged, but his eyes were glittering. The short hairs on the back of Heero's neck were standing on end. He studied Trowa intently for several seconds, distantly listening to the news report. 

"Later this evening, we'll have a short segment on the body armor worn by Preventers, and how it works," the anchorman was telling the audience with a smile. Then he turned back to the side, speaking to the first reporter through his earpiece. "Joan, you've spoken with the L4 Preventer Chief. Any word on whether it's true that one of those Preventers was actually Quatre Winner, brother-in-law to Martin Marlowe?" 

The camera jumped to the young woman, who forced a smile as she shook her head. "That has not been confirmed. The investigating Preventer on the scene would only say that Mr. Winner was not currently on a job for Preventers. Normally Mr. Winner is assigned to duty with Relena Darlian, one of the adjuncts for the Interstellar Council." 

The scene changed to the anchorman, who added that three customs inspectors at an L4 docking station were also shot, but investigators had not yet determined if there was a connection to the events at the hotel. Two of the officers were dead, and a third was in stable condition. The anchorman added that the Police Chief had released a statement concerning witness reports at the hotel, and that four suspects had been arrested. More details were promised when the news show returned. A commercial for an L4 cleaning service came on. 

In the light dancing across the room, Heero returned his attention to Trowa, and was startled to see tears dripping down the man's face. Trowa's expression was impassive, and the tears fell unheeded. The dark-haired man watched, vaguely concerned, as Trowa stood up. Without another word, he left the room. 

Duo watched him go, the thief's eyes glinting in the television's light. "Jeet," he hissed without looking up. "Go back there." 

"Where?" Jeet's voice shook. 

"To Trey's bunk. Stay with him." 

"He's...I can't...you people..." 

"I could care less what your problem is," Duo snapped, a fierce smile on his face. "You're here for several reasons, one of which is enough reason to get your ass back there and do anything and everything Trey needs." 

"What if he doesn't..." 

"Then he'll be the one to tell you." Duo looked over, and the cold glare in his eyes was enough to make the young man bolt from the room. The remaining members of the team could hear Jeet's footsteps padding quickly down the hallway, and then the soft tapping at the bunkroom door. A second later, the door slid open and shut. By the time the news report had returned, they knew Jeet hadn't been sent away. 

The opening segment of the news program was the local sports reports for L4, and Enny hit the mute on the remote. In the silence that followed, the room was filled with quiet crying. Heero frowned, then looked over to see Hilde, with her fist in her mouth, stifling the sound as she cried. Enny was trying to sit up, and grabbed at the back of the seat to lever herself up so she could wrap her arms around the other woman. 

Hilde sobbed softly, her hands fisting against Enny's back. Heero listened as Hilde mumbled into Enny's neck. 

"She's alive," the brunette was saying. "I can't believe she's alive." 

Enny pulled away long enough to wipe the tears from Hilde's face, shushing her. "That's a good thing." 

"No, no," the other woman replied, shaking her head frantically. "You don't understand. I shot her, I thought she'd died, and _I didn't care_." Hilde's body was wracked with more sobs, and Enny hugged her tightly as they rocked on the bench. Hilde's voice was muffled as she cried softly, "I didn't care, I didn't care..." 

With a glance at Duo, Heero carefully removed Enny's legs from across his lap, replacing them on the sofa as he stood up. Silently he left the two women alone, nodding at Duo as he walked past. Duo followed him into the hall, and hit the door control. The door slid shut, and he leaned against the wall with a sigh. 

Heero leaned against the opposite wall, and put his head back to stare at the dim overhead light. 

"It's done," he said, although something inside him whispered it wasn't true. 

A chuckle broke the moment, and Heero looked over to see Shinigami. The indolent smile did nothing to warm the stark ice of Duo's deep blue eyes. Heero knew his own face was completely blank. 

"And now we're back," Duo replied, and his words held multiple meanings for them both. The thief shrugged and his grin grew broader. "Damn, feels like it's been forever." 

Maybe it should have been, Heero thought, but didn't let the wish linger. 

* * *

The news report was not turned back on. None of the team wanted to hear any more details, although Enny continued to watch while Hilde calmed down. She reported that four suspects had been held for questioning. Witnesses on the scene reported several snipers on both the stage and the balcony. Most witnesses from the dinner seemed to be convinced that the three snipers were tall, heavy-set men wearing black ski masks. Other hotel guests reported seeing four women fleeing the scene, shooting at bystanders, being chased by an officer also carrying a gun. This second set of reports were given credence by station witnesses, who saw three women shoot the police officers, while another woman ran for cover. 

Duo's low chuckle was the only response any of them had. 

The rest of the trip was nearly silent, with few words exchanged. Duo slept for the majority of the trip, unable to sit comfortably in order to pilot. Heero kept watch in the pilot's seat for several hours until Trowa returned, his face showing exhaustion, but a certain resolve. Heero didn't ask for details, and Trowa didn't offer. Hilde had remained in the meeting room with Enny for several hours, before retiring to her own bunk to sleep. Six hours before reaching L2, Heero went back to his own bunk, and found Jeet sound asleep in the upper bunk. Sighing, he lay down, throwing his good arm over his face, and let sleep take him. 

Hilde strolled in without knocking, several hours later. 

"Wake up, handsome," she called, leaning against the doorjamb with a lopsided smile on her face. She'd showered and changed, and her leather pants hugged her slim body. The deep blue sweater set off her eyes, and she raised an eyebrow as she watched Heero carefully swing his feet over and stand up. "Jeet, you too. An hour 'til we arrive, and I want everyone in the main room in a half-hour. Hito, the bathroom is all yours." 

Heero nodded. A shower was out of the question, but a wet washcloth was better than nothing. He cricked his neck, grabbed some clean clothes, and headed to the bathroom. It took nearly the entire half-hour, patiently struggling in the small space to remove clothes one-handed, clean, shave, brush his teeth, and get dressed again, but he felt marginally refreshed. He stared at his reflection as he dragged the razor across his chin, and wondered whether other people noticed the silver flecks hiding in his irises. He doubted it. 

The rest of the team was waiting in the meeting room when Heero arrived. Jeet's brown eyes were solemn, and the kid had dyed his hair back to a brilliant blue at some point. He sat next to Trowa, close but not touching. Trowa had showered and changed into jeans and a green turtleneck. His auburn hair was still damp, but he tossed it back to give Heero a single nod as the dark-haired man entered. Duo was leaning against the wall, his long braid neatly redone, dressed entirely in black. He shifted against the wall, favoring his right leg, but gave no other sign of discomfort. Enny was dressed in black jeans and a pale gray sweater, and the boots on her feet had steel tips. Her dark brown hair was pulled up in a ponytail, and there was no makeup on her face. 

Hilde was standing by the shelves when Heero entered, and watched him as he leaned by the door. There was a long pause, while she studied each person in turn. 

"This is it," she announced blandly. "We reach L2 in an half-hour. We'll be dropping out of stealth in the next ten minutes. It's only going to get harder from here. So there's only one question: anyone want out?" 

The room was silent. Heero noticed out of the corner of his eye that Jeet didn't look up. Hilde's eyes came to rest on the blue-haired young man, and she called his name. 

"Jeet?" 

"No," he said softly, but without hesitation. "I still don't know who..." He shrugged one shoulder. "But there's no going back now. If you need me, I'm here. Don't know what I can do..." 

"We'll find something for you," Hilde assured him flatly. She glanced at Enny, and an understanding seemed to pass between the two women. The brunette looked around the room again, then smiled, a cold expression mirroring Duo's own lazy smile. "Fine, then. We're expecting company at the gates. Trey, you're in the cockpit with me. Jeet, you help Day put the shipment together. Enny, you and Hito are assigned to clean-up duty. I want the ship blood-free before we arrive." 

There were no responses. When Hilde walked out, the rest followed silently, going to their assigned tasks. 

* * *

The ship pulled into its bay at an unfamiliar docking station. Trowa had followed the syndicate's directions to an alternate, less-used station, and once the ship was in place, the team congregated in the cargo area. The stack of stolen slimtops, laptops, and palmtops were packed neatly in three crates, along with the laptop Duo had used to record the first day of the convention. The handguns, ammunition, magazines and communications devices were in another crate, ready to be disposed of or used again, as the syndicate saw fit. 

Hilde glanced once around at the team, then hit the door unlock mechanism. 

The cargo door slid up with a hiss, and Heero could see the legs of several people standing outside. When the door was fully retracted, he recognized Lee, the woman who'd originally led him to the ship. On the left was a taller man with bright red hair, and on the right was an Asian man with a bleached forelock. Heero took a second to place their names: the redhead was Tiny, and the Asian man was Joe. Both men had gun holsters under their jackets, Heero noted, and their postures were tense. 

Hilde stepped forward, and Heero noticed she was smiling tightly. His soldier senses kicked in as he registered everyone's location. Duo was just to the side and front of him, shoulder-to-shoulder with Hilde. Trowa stood at Hilde's other shoulder, and next to him was Enny. Jeet had been at the back, by the crates, when the door opened. Heero hadn't heard him move. 

"Glad you made it back in one piece," Lee said, and her high-pitched voice once again sounded strangely out of place. "Some projects will make or break a team." 

No one spoke. Heero kept his eyes trained on Joe. 

"I see. That's good," Lee continued, as though she'd gotten the right response. She studied the group for a second before smiling brightly, looking past Hilde at the crates. "These two gentleman are here to unload your cargo. This," she said, holding out a palmtop, "is for your team, along with these." 

The petite brunette stepped off the ship to receive the palmtop and bundle of papers. The four on either side instinctively moved along with her, guarding her watchfully. Joe noticed, and his eyebrows shot up, going up even further as Jeet stepped forward to stand alongside Enny. 

"Those are room reservations for a hotel in Sector 3," Lee was saying, pointing to the papers in Hilde's hand. "There's no need for you to stay on the ship in such tight quarters," she explained. Behind them, the two men were grunting a little as they hefted the crates, loading them up on a waiting dolly. Lee ran her eyes over the team again, and nodded in clear satisfaction. "Your next assignment is on the palmtop, but I hear you've got a week to recuperate. Enjoy it." 

Lee turned to see Tiny putting the last crate on the dolly, and the two men trundled it off. Without another word, she followed them, waving one hand over her shoulder. There was a long silence after she left, and Heero looked over to see Hilde staring down at the items in her hands. The woman blinked, as if registering the rest of the team's curiosity, and handed the papers to Duo. Frowning a little, she clicked on the palmtop, her eyes widening as she read the information scrolling down the screen. 

"Pack your stuff and prepare to live large for the next few days," she told the team quietly. "Next Wednesday, we're having lunch with the big boys." 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamian. I do, however, own a brand-new set of CD shelf inserts from IKEA. If you sue me, you're welcome to them. Damn things are for a 36" shelf, and I have a 23" shelf. This is me, not measuring. Brilliant. 

Many thanks to CleverYoungThief, for letting me rant, and extra special thanks this chapter to Arithkenshin, for her invaluable advice on Trowa and a certain scene that merely passable until she helped make it just right. And now, to the responses: 

Lainwyn: thinking like a soldier did make writing ch42 easier, in some ways – the sheer reportage kind of style. It's this chapter that proved to be difficult, in contrast. I thought making Heero smile (and even cry) was hard...boy, I had no idea. *sigh* 

Maldorer: Yeah, go to pieces...at least for a little while. Or, at least, some of them. The team really doesn't have the time or space to let themselves completely go...not yet. And it just keeps coming. 

Shinimegami82: glad to be of assistance! :-) 

Kuki: Aw shucks. *blush* Well, as long as I can keep it up, the story's still demanding to be told...very glad you like. 

Antigone: here, I've posted! Happy? Yes, the characters are complex, which is part of the beauty of trying to tackle them. It's a challenge, don't get me wrong, but I don't mind hearing I'm handling it okay. That's always nice to hear, actually. 

Neekabe: Join the club. I kept hoping something would save the day, too, but it just didn't seem to work out that way. And now we have a body count...Y'know, I was kind of hoping it wouldn't get so intense again, so soon, but I'm just the writer. Heh. 

Aryl: I love skipping through the daisies as much as anyone. Well, I like daisies, but I don't skip much. Anyway, yes, it was a bloodbath. They pretty much cleared the place out – makes the events on the mining asteroid look like child's play. 

Nlp: Breathe, babe, breathe. ;-) Guess now some of your questions are answered...but, of course, not all. I couldn't make it that easy on ya, could I? 

Moonlightchic: Uh, you also need to breathe! Deep, slow breaths. Okay. Heart stopped pounding yet? Heh. It's okay, I understand. There were a few points when writing it that I was typo'ing all over the place, trying to keep up with the pace in my head of the scene. It wrote itself in record time. But if it got that reaction from you, it worked! 

KatsyKat: *blush* Thanks! I agree that it's a matter of "this is what I'm here to do, don't get in my way" – unfortunately, it appears that Quatre was in the way. I'm still not sure how he showed up, but I hold out hope it'll be explained at some point. Cause, y'know, riddles inside enigmas... 

Nihyaku: Well, now you know they made it back to L2, and that, as Aryl commented, it was a bloodbath. 

JuliTina: I sent a long email, but after this chapter you can see that some of the situation does carry a toll, but each has their own way of dealing with it. When it hits though, it will hit. Hopefully that won't be chapter 80-something, and I won't be locked in a small closet wearing a hug-me coat for letting the story drag on that long! 

Also thanks to those who wrote me to tell me to kill Quatre, save Quatre, kill Iria, save Iria, kill Sally, and save Sally: TKMaxwell, Koyote, CZ, Sevenall, Arithkenshin, Casey Valhalla, Calic0Cat, RurouniTriv, Kelp Soda, Cricket, SilverFrostTheReaper, samipi, and Asuka Kureru. Extra wow goes to Jules K.B., who sent me my very first review-in-a-poem just as I was getting ready to post this, and wins this chapter's award for most unusual review. w00t! Here's a taste, everyone: 

I sat wishing for a new addition, of Heero and his next mission,  
Wanting to read further of the great author Sol's lore,  
With Quatre down and out, Duo standing strong and devout,  
And Heero who is unconscious after picking himself up off the floor,  
With great company of a Clown, Mechanic, Pimp, and Whore,  
Only this and nothing more. 

I liked the responses to my lemons, but I think I liked the panicked responses to ch42 even better! Hehe. Yes, I am EVIL. :D 


	43. the hour is getting late

**03 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate,  
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late.  
― Bob Dylan 

The hotel room was larger than Heero expected, with two queen-sized beds, and decorated in what he recognized as generic hotel décor. He'd seen enough of it when traveling at Bernie's demand. Duo opened the curtains as the valets wheeled in their luggage, still packed from leaving L1. Neither he nor Duo responded when the valet hesitated, obviously hoping for a tip. Shrugging his shoulders, the valet left without comment. 

Better manners than most hotel employees, Heero thought. His shoulder was throbbing badly, and he sank onto the loveseat in the small seating area. With a sigh, he put his feet up on the coffee table and leaned his head back. A knock came at the door, and Heero couldn't hear Duo's passage, but felt the brush of air along his cheek. 

"What the fuck is this for?" Duo's voice was unexpectedly loud, and Heero lifted his head to see two more valets wheeling in the same crates Tiny and Joe had taken only three hours before. Hilde was leaning against the door, and tipped the two valets as they left. 

"It's the computers, dimwit," she replied cheekily. "You were supposed to crack them and produce the information." 

"Me?" Duo crossed his arms, standing over the crates with a sour expression as Hilde shut the door behind her. 

"Well, you and Hito, if he can do it one-handed." The brunette shrugged, and picked up one of the palmtops. "How hard can it be?" Duo canted his head at her, clearly skeptical, and Hilde grinned. "Get started on it in the morning. Enny and I are ordering room service, if you want to join us." She looked around, nodded to Heero, and made a face at Duo. "Nice digs." She barely scooted past Duo's half-hearted swat, and was gone. 

"Seven laptops, nineteen slimtops, and eight palmtops," Duo recited. "Plus..." There was a solid clicking sound, and Heero looked over to see Duo cocking a Ruger 9mm and sighting the barrel. "One for each." He whistled, popped out the magazine, checked it, and slammed it back home. "Ammo's over here," he said, and tossed the gun to Heero, who caught it one-handed. 

"I'd rather have a Beretta," Heero muttered, and laid the gun on the loveseat next to him. "Wake me when it's dinnertime." 

* * *

The next three days bled into each other, and Heero spent most of the time aggravated by Trowa's constant supervision. Each time he started to unbind his left arm, the tall pilot mysteriously showed up with a book, settled into the loveseat and proceeded to read as though this were perfectly normal behavior. 

Conversation, and even interaction, was nearly non-existent. The team had quickly determined the location of miniature video cameras, and could only assume the rooms were bugged as well. Jeet and Enny brought clothes from the apartment they'd shared, Enny moving in with Hilde, and Jeet with Trowa. The young man had the most difficult time with the silence, but the rest of the team let him jabber on, knowing that there was little he could say that would cause any damage. For the first day, Jeet stayed in the room he shared with Trowa, watching movies, until Enny and Hilde bought him a sketchpad and new pencils. After that, he became Trowa's constant companion, drawing everything around him while the taller man read. 

The computers were set up on every horizontal surface, waiting their turns. Duo had quickly determined the only way to crack the elaborate security systems was to hook their own laptop up to each, run the compilation program, and wait for something to give. Once they were in, it was a matter of sorting the digital information and burning it on romchips. Despite Duo's curiosity, they refrained from opening any files, as that would change the date and the syndicate would know they'd been snooping. 

At night, the room was lit by the multiple screens blinking blue against the ceiling. Heero dreamt of Wing Zero, and every beep from a slimtop entered his dreams as a mobile suit. 

* * *

Sunday morning, the job was nearly complete, and a pile of romchips lay on the dresser surface. When Duo woke up, Heero held up a coffee cup and Duo nodded his agreement to the silent plan. Thirty minutes later the two were out on the street, away from the computers and the surveillance. 

"Hey..." Duo said, his voice a little hesitant. Heero glanced over to see Duo's face devoid of the jester's smile for the first time in three days. "Are you okay...with this?" 

"What?" Heero's voice was neutral, his attention held mostly by the traffic honking in the busy street. 

"Everything..." Duo waved a hand back and forth between them, but didn't say more. 

"Hn." Heero started to shrug, then stopped in his tracks, turning to face Duo. I don't know what to say, he thought. Frustrated, he nearly turned and walked off, but couldn't move. 

Duo's deep blue eyes narrowed. Heero dropped his head, then lifted it, startled, as Duo grabbed his arm and yanked him into an alley. Duo scoped the area quickly, pulling the dark-haired man along until they came to a doorway. Practically shoving Heero backwards, Duo pressed himself up against Heero in the small space, hip-to-hip, chest-to-chest. 

"This," Duo muttered, his lips against Heero's ear. His face was tilted up, and his hands dug into Heero's chest. The longhaired man ground his hips against Heero, and pushed a knee between Heero's legs. "Do you...miss this?" 

"Yeah," Heero managed to say, biting back a groan as his fingers clawed at Duo's hips, pulling the shorter man closer. "Fuck, I miss it...what do you think?" Without waiting for a response, he grabbed the back of Duo's head, turning his head, blindly seeking Duo's lips. Mouths already open and panting, tongues met and searched deep, twisting in the slick heat, threshing with the movement of their hips together. 

Heartbeats passed, and Heero jerked away. Duo's eyes were closed, and the Wing Zero pilot watched as the blue eyes slowly opened. They were nearly purple in the shadows, shuttered with lust, focused on Heero's lips. 

Heero held Duo close, pressing their foreheads together. He spoke low enough that only Duo could hear him. "I miss...hearing you laugh...really laugh. And I miss...holding your hand at night. I miss...feeling you move against me...Yes, _fuck yes_, I miss what you do to me..." He swallowed hard, centering himself as he realized what he had to say. "But I'm not...that person, deep down. I can't be, and do what I did." 

"That's not true," Duo whispered. "Heero―" 

"I'm only good at one thing," Heero told him. "I wanted to be something more, but..." He paused, closing his eyes against the hurt on Duo's face, the way the other man's brow was furrowed with a single line. Heero closed his eyes against the wish to kiss that line away. "This is what I can do, maybe the only thing...let me do it, please." 

Heero bit his lip, and shoved Duo backwards, leaving the startled man behind in the alleyway. He could hear pounding feet behind him. When he reached the sidewalk, Duo had fallen in place beside him, but said nothing. Heero led the way to the coffee shop. By the time he'd pushed the door open, both had their masks firmly in place. 

* * *

That afternoon, Heero left the hotel, making a circuitous side-trip to a net café ten blocks away from the hotel. Settling his soldier's instincts about him, he entered only once he was satisfied that he wasn't being trailed. He paid for his time and settled into a station facing the door, logging quickly onto the hacker forum. 

There were a number of avatars he didn't recognize, but Mike entered a few seconds later. Rather than attract attention by changing the anonymous guest smiley-face to the dove's wing, Heero messaged the young hacker. 

"Wing?" The Hand's fingers wriggled. 

"Yes," Heero replied, his lips twitching. "Only me. No Deathscythe." 

"Whew." The avatar drooped a little, then sprang back up. "That guy seems to have it in for me." 

You're too much alike, Heero thought. He shook his head slightly and began typing. "How's progress on the latest task?" 

"Traffic, all the time," Mike replied. "Big spike about two days ago in the gossip column. There were a bunch of emails closing with notes about something on L4. Pinky thinks it's related to that big shoot-out where the whole place burned and everyone died." 

"The whole place did not burn," Heero corrected the hacker. "I don't have long. Summarize." 

"Most of it's saying that plans change, or things like how great, now that all obstacles are out of the way," Mike typed. "And then, starting yesterday afternoon, the gun smugglers started closing their emails with questions about who's going to some meeting. It's something big. Looks like they're all going to be there." 

Interesting, Heero thought. He pondered for a second, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, before continuing. "Anything else?" 

"Only that I don't think these guys are as stupid as we thought they are." The avatar waved. "I've been making a list of the addresses, and they're changing every six days. I think they're all using a program that cycles through the fake addresses, because two have changed. One from ryoiw2397 to ryoiw2398, and then yesterday another one changed, from sdrt34g to sdrt34h." 

One letter up in the roman alphabet, Heero observed. "Not the brightest system." 

"No, but it means we have maybe two or three weeks before we lose this address. Unless we're on the next on the list to change, or if they don't find us first. But the thing is, the main eight addresses stay the same, and the one I made is on that list. It's the other eight that change, depending on who's sending it. I'm not sure, but I think those are also listening dumps." 

Makes sense, he thought. "Fine, keep tracking them as long as you can. How's Rat organizing the information?" 

"By sender address. We notate them that way, then add into the database the content, location, time, mentioned in email, and notes of any gossip in the closing or opening. When we're done, you'll be able to search and find out who shipped what, when, where, and to whom. Or," the hand drooped a little, "as much as we know from the emails we've gotten." 

"Good." 

"One other thing," Mike said. "It's huge. I mean, it's really HUGE. There are people emailing from all over earth, and every colony. And it's not just guns, it's drugs, prostitution, code, everything. If it can be bought or sold and it's illegal somewhere, there's an email about it. This isn't just guns. This is...something else." 

"It's trade," Heero told the hacker. "It's illicit trade, but even that has a market, and goes by market rules." 

"I guess so. I just never thought...I mean, the Preventers are supposed to prevent this stuff, aren't they?" 

"That's the theory." He frowned as he checked the time. "Have to go. Will try to check in again, in the next few days." 

* * *

Hilde had set wake-up calls for everyone at Monday morning at ten standard time, prompting a string of violent cursing from Duo as the phone rang for the fifth time in fifteen minutes. Eventually he'd struggled from bed, cursing as he made his way blindly to the bathroom. Forty-five minutes later he reappeared, showered and dressed in his usual black. Heero had been laying on the bed, reading, and got up when Duo shoved his feet into a pair of black boots. Heero had been dressed and ready for an hour. 

"Ready." Duo tied his laces and stood up. He tugged at the bottom of his jacket, and flexed his left leg. Heero pulled on his leather jacket, wincing as the left shoulder ached for a second. Duo watched, raising one eyebrow at the fact that Heero had refused to wear the sling. 

There was a knock at the door, and Duo opened it to find Jeet. 

"Hel says I'm to wait for the guys picking up the computers," he told the two pilots. Duo nodded, and Jeet made himself comfortable on their loveseat, sketchpad in hand. 

Heero looked over the rest of the team as they assembled in the hallway, assessing each one's status. Their wounds were healing neatly, assisted by the salve Trowa gave them that kept the skin soft as the tissues generated. Heero still healed phenomenally fast, he'd realized with some satisfaction, but the soreness indicated the process wasn't done yet. Another day or two and he'd have closer to full mobility. Duo was walking without a limp, and Enny hadn't dropped into a fever. Trowa's silent nod was enough to tell them all that they weren't going to lose one of their newest team members. In celebration, Hilde and Enny had spent an evening bleaching and dying Enny's hair. Now the pimp had streaks of green at her temples. The rest remained auburn, a few shades redder than Trowa's hair. 

Heero was pleased to see they fell into formation without any need for discussion. Hilde led the way, with Trowa and Duo on either side, with Enny right behind Hilde. Heero came last, instinctively taking rear guard. The loaded Ruger against the small of his back felt comfortable and solid. 

The van was waiting in front of the hotel, and the team piled in, remaining silent. Hilde's eyes were straight forward, in the seat next to the driver, while the rest of the team got in the back. The man driving said nothing. Twenty minutes later they pulled up in front of a large office building in the downtown district. Without a word, Hilde got out, followed by the rest of the team, who arranged themselves again around her in a flanking formation. 

Heero could see the petite brunette square her shoulders, then confidently led them up to the glass and steel structure, pushing the double doors open so they could walk unimpeded. 

Seventeen floors, one elevator, and three receptionists later, they were ushered into a large conference room. There was a table at one end, with the nearer end holding a desk and several seats arranged on an oriental rug. Across from them the panoramic windows showed L2's shopping district, with its warehouse district peeking up beyond, in the distance. A man was leaning against the desk, his arms crossed as he stared out the window. When they entered, he turned his head to smile. His copper-blond hair was chopped short, a casual tousled look that contrasted with his fine tailored dark suit and expensive shoes. 

Hilde stood, waiting, as the rest of the team filed in behind her. 

"Please, Miss Waters, have a seat." The man glanced at one of the chairs. 

After a moment's pause to look around the room, Hilde seated herself in one of the chairs. Enny stood a little to the side, behind Hilde's chair. Trowa leaned against the wall to the left of the desk. Heero crossed his arms and leant against the wall to the right of the door. Duo watched the others move into position, and took a long look around the room before wandering over to the window. The man at the desk watched, curious, as Duo stared out onto the streets below before turning with a cocky grin to sit on the window ledge. 

The man returned the grin. "I'm Alan Kessler, and I'm your liaison for your next project." He didn't move from his spot, but uncrossed his arms and rested his hands on the heavy wooden desk beside him, turning slightly to direct his words towards Hilde. "Everyone is very impressed with what your team managed to accomplish. You went above and beyond, Miss Waters." 

Hilde graced him with a simple nod. Heero noted that Trowa's eyes appeared to be closed, while Enny had cocked her head at Alan. Duo's attention seemed to wander. Heero noticed the other man seemed to be studying the rug, but he could tell Duo was listening closely. 

"I see you've added more people to your team. I've known Enny for several years. And Jeffrey Taft. Jeet, I believe it is, now?" 

Enny nodded. 

"A good worker," came the baritone statement. "If you've included him, I'm sure it's because of his...talents." 

Duo shifted against the window, turning to stare down at the streets below him. 

"I'll get to business. We understand this last mission was difficult," Alan continued in a soothing tone as he moved to seat himself behind the desk. "But my sources tell me that you've each recuperated beautifully." He shuffled several papers on his desk, then set them aside, glancing down at them a few times as he spoke. "Hito Young. Impressive shooting. You learned this during the war?" 

Heero glared at the man and didn't answer. 

Alan chuckled softly. "Hard to unlearn, isn't it. Don't lose those skills. We might need them again. We honestly had hoped for two, perhaps three shots before you were interrupted. Instead, you took down all six. Three dead immediately, and one died on the operating table. The last two are still in critical condition. Truly, some amazing marksmanship, to get off that many shots in a crowded ballroom. Speaking of which, how is your shoulder?" 

Heero rotated his left shoulder, his face perfectly blank. 

"Amazing." Alan chuckled and dropped the paper back on the desk, looking over at Duo. "And the thefts. We had figured you would spend all day hacking into each to get just the drive mirrors. We certainly didn't expect the gift of so much hardware." 

Duo chuckled, a feral expression flashing across his face. 

"We don't always do the expected," Hilde replied smoothly. 

"Which is why you're elite," came the quick reply. Alan leaned back, his fingers clasped behind his head. The chair creaked. "We know you weren't prepared to move up so fast, and we would have sent in another team, but..." He shrugged, still staring at the ceiling with a nonchalant expression. "Our elite team needed retirement a few months ago, after an equally difficult assignment. But you stepped in, and completed the work better than we would've expected from our top teams." 

He sighed, and canted his head to study the tallest team member. Trowa's head was down, his face hidden by a sheaf of auburn hair. Alan smiled wryly. "Trey Barlow," he said softly. "Too bad, isn't it? To have killed a Gundam pilot, and no one will ever know it was you." 

Trowa didn't respond. 

"Officially, it's not confirmed he was one of the five," Alan said blandly, and a smile twitched at the corner of his lips. "There are no records of the true identities. Only a few people met the pilots in person, and we've never gotten close enough to them to find out." The colony lights caught his copper hair, turning it to gold as he glanced down at the papers on his desk. "Quatre Winner has an alibi for the entire war, but rumors dogged his every step. During the war, we used to joke that a Gundam pilot is as indestructible as the Gundams themselves. Considering Mr. Winner took a bullet to the gut between his first and second ribs, damaging the liver, it's amazing he lived as long as he did." 

Or the result of some excellent marksmanship, Heero thought, if Trowa missed the spine. 

"The Winner corporation is trying to keep it quiet, but reliable sources indicate that he died early this morning," Alan added nonchalantly. "A coma from massive trauma, after three days, means brain damage. It's been six days. Even if he woke up, he'd only amount to a vegetable. The bottom line, regardless of his past, is that he's been a thorn in the side of every attempt to form an alliance with the L4 organization. We had hoped his sister's death would force him to draw back, but his own death achieves that objective just as well." 

There was a pause, and Alan leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers at his chin. He seemed to be thinking, then smiled at Hilde. The expression reminded the dark-haired man of Duo, that same cat-sly look that didn't quite reach the eyes. 

"Miss Waters, you've organized an excellent team. Some truly dangerous men under your command," he said blandly. "Your next task is high-profile. Are you sure you can keep these three in line?" 

"What do you think?" Hilde's voice was cool. 

Heero glanced over at Duo. The man was leaning against the window; his smile was smug. 

"I think you can," Alan said, unruffled. "But then, I keep telling my bosses that you can handle a Gundam pilot. Two mercenaries should be nothing." He laughed. "I'm afraid they're convinced Gundam pilots walk on water, and are as unpredictable as any other messiah." 

Heero frowned. It must be Duo, he realized. They know about Duo. Damn braid, he cursed silently. 

Alan glanced at Heero, and shrugged. "When you fund a share of the activities, the people involved have a tendency to leave their files where you can read them. Of course we know about Mr. Maxwell," he said, throwing a quick smile over at the Deathscythe pilot, who ignored him. Alan chuckled and shook his head. "He was raised and taught to defend L2's interests. There's a certain logic for him to join us, protecting our organization's interests in return for his protection these last five years. After all, we are this colony's sole industry. If we go down, so will L2." Alan paused, his gaze measuring Trowa and then Heero. "However, Miss Waters, it appears the truth of your brother's history is news to the rest of your team." 

Hilde shrugged in reply, a nonchalant gesture. Enny shifted her weight but didn't move. 

"Which brings me to one of my final points, and then I'll give you the next assignment." Alan leaned forward, his eyes intent on Hilde, but his face strangely affectionate. "Miss Waters, I know your brother's a seasoned veteran, but sometimes family can't be what we need. Killing is different when it's up close. Our organization has...people, that you can talk to, if you need someone." 

"That won't be necessary." Hilde's calm tone carried a hint of a smile. 

"Excellent," Alan said. There was a knock at the door, and Heero immediately shifted. Enny turned, enough to see both Alan and the door on either side of her. The man waved his hand at their instinctive responses. "Come in," he called. 

A dark-skinned woman in a tailored suit leaned across the threshold. The beads at the end of her cornrow braids clicked against the door. 

"Mr. Kessler, we've received the information," she said, and smiled politely as she shut the door again. 

"Ah," Alan said, standing up. "That brings me to my last point." He leaned against the window, and tilted his head at Trowa. The light coming in from behind shadowed Alan, and his coppery hair glowed like a halo around his head. "We've been worried for some time that there may be a problem in your team, Miss Waters. I argued against this, but I'm afraid my bosses are adamant that Mr. Barlow be watched carefully, due to some lingering questions about his past." 

"Oh?" Hilde's single word was icy. 

"Yes, but we compromised, once it became clear that Mr. Barlow has become quite close to another member of your team. This gives us a bargaining chip, and we will be keeping Mr. Taft...Jeet...with us for the time being. For this next task, we cannot risk allowing anyone to be..." Alan paused, as if trying to find a delicate term for the accusation. "Disloyal, shall we say. If it goes well, the boy will be returned to Mr. Barlow, none the worse for wear." 

"I don't see that this is necessary," Hilde protested, but her voice was steady. 

"It's definitely necessary," Alan replied, and a hint of steel crept into his smooth baritone. "You are still a new team, despite your record, and we are not willing to take chances. We are aware that Mr. Maxwell also favors someone. However, we are certain a Gundam pilot is capable of carrying out his own retribution if crossed." Alan's voice lost its silky quality, and dropped into a more matter-of-fact tone. "Your next task is to be security. This Friday we're meeting on L2, with the colony and Earth organizations, to discuss trade agreements between the syndicates. All parties will be in person. It will be the first meeting of its kind." He grinned, and raised his eyebrows, a self-mocking expression. "Normally we'd plan for months in advance, but we can't miss this chance, or L4's anti-alliance groups will have time to organize a defense. Right now they're in shambles, and we have to take advantage of that." 

"We're just supposed to be bodyguards?" The brunette's shoulders had relaxed. Her arms were on the chair arms, and her entire posture radiated confidence. 

"Not entirely," the man said, and shrugged ruefully. "You're to plan and supervise the security for the entire event. The details are on this disk." He stepped forward, picking up a disk and flipping it over in his hand before tossing it to Enny, who caught it one-handed. Hilde didn't react, and Alan smiled. "Do this, and your positions are assured, as is our trust in you. And, of course, that means your team will be complete again. Good day, all." 

When Hilde nodded and stood, Duo got up from the window. Enny and Duo flanked Hilde as she left, Heero and Trowa falling in behind. As the door shut, Heero was almost certain he could pick up the sound of Alan, softly chuckling. 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamian. I do, however, own a large gold chrysanthemum bush that's fallen over in the front yard. Every year I tell myself to just pull those stupid plants up and replace them, and I do, but they keep coming back or something. And they get bigger and bigger every year, until they fall over from their own weight. Man, I'm telling ya... 

Neekabe: Back in the chapter where Heero stays in the hotel room, he notices there are silver flecks in his eyes. The underlying question he's asking is whether anyone else has ever noticed the reality of his appearance (and by extension, his soul). Eyes being the windows to the soul, after all. 

Nlp: Yes, good reading rarely constitutes what we'd want to go through in our daily lives. I mean, I'd just about do something or someone in if my life were a roller-coaster like some of the books I've read. But, unfortunately, this roller-coaster isn't over for Heero...not yet. 

GoldenRat: Yes, I don't know yet, and yeah...Trowa's gonna hate me by the end of this story! 

Shinimegami82: Yes, Trowa felt bad; some hints on Duo/Heero in this chapter, just to tantalize you (and them). And now you know what's so important... 

Mashiro Karasu: You'll see the results of the shot in ch43, and the consequences in this chapter. Yeah, I know, no one's going to be very happy with me, but we gotta face reality. There's little chance of surviving a stomach shot...that's just the way it goes. 

Kasifya: Aww, thanks! I have to post this fast, or people would probably hunt me down! This way I can keep the wolves at bay...so to speak. 

SilverCaladan: Bingo. If a team falls apart after a mission, then the weakest links could turn them all in (or just leave, and the team would effectively be reduced to nothing anyway). A mission like that, with the suspicions about Trowa...I figured if they showed up, and looked contentious, the syndicate would've just killed them all rather than risk one or more of the team switching sides or leaving with all that knowledge in their head. 

Nihyaku: Okay, remember: breathe. Air is good! And now you know what the next mission is... 

Lainwyn: So now that people like Jeet...hehe. Hey, the syndicate's all one big happy family, right? :) 

And thanks to those who write me offline with nice things to say: Ashkara, Koyote, Wingnut, Morgan, Tyr, CleverYoungThief, Cricket, Arithkenshin, and Casey Valhalla. 


	44. the fortune of battles

**03 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

Know'st thou not there is   
but one theme for ever-enduring bards?  
And that is the theme of War, the fortune of battles,  
The making of perfect soldiers.  
― Walt Whitman 

Trowa's shoulders were set in a hard line, and Heero watched the taller man move silently down the hall behind Hilde. The young woman's leather-clad legs swished quietly as she walked, and she looked neither right nor left. They passed men and women in business suits, all of which had the good sense to clear the way. 

Outside, the colony winter was refreshing despite the tension ringing between the three pilots. Duo's smile was cheerful, but his eyes were cold and watchful. Trowa's green eyes were trained straight ahead, and Hilde sighed as she turned to face the three men. 

"You three...go do whatever you need. Enny and I are going to get a late lunch, and we'll see you back at the hotel." She held up the disk, studying its metallic surface for several seconds. "We'll get started. Join us when you're ready." She turned and stepped to the curb, hailing a cab. Enny followed silently behind, with a single warning glance at Heero. He responded with a raised eyebrow, and the girl pointedly turned her head away, and climbed into the taxi. 

Duo sighed as the taxi left, and shoved his hands in the pockets of his long wool coat. "Okay, then, let's find a place to talk." 

"The apartment," Trowa replied, but Duo shook his head. 

"They're probably watching that place." Duo grinned tightly. "But I know another." 

* * *

The bar was dark, a men's club atmosphere of dark wood and boston ferns. Heero kept his face blank as Duo led them to a side booth. Sliding in, Duo motioned for the other two to join him. He didn't appear surprised when Trowa and Heero seated themselves on either side of him. 

"It's safe here," Duo said, hitting several buttons on the side of the table, but his eyes were cold. "We're in the clear. This is where all the hotshots meet, and they're not big on being overheard. The tables are installed with dampeners, too." He leaned back so they could see the blinking green light that indicated a lack of listening devices. A second blue light indicated the dampeners were on. 

There was a pause, and a waitress drifted over. Duo ordered a beer, Trowa ordered tequila, and Heero ordered a double of whiskey. He had a feeling he was going to need it. His mission mask was in place, but he could feel the angry questions bubbling up, forcing themselves to the surface. Rather than open his mouth, he focused on the table's glossy painted surface. 

When Heero looked up, Trowa was staring off at the bar, watching the waitress gather their drinks. Finally he turned, his auburn hair swinging out of his face as he pinned his green eyes on Duo. 

"You never told me they knew," he said calmly, but there were chunks of ice floating through his words. 

"I..." Duo shrugged, dropping his eyes. "The syndicate keeps good records, and has a good memory. Most people don't. They look for Duo Maxwell, not Day Waters. I've been going under different aliases on L2 for the past five years, anyway." 

"You were...a Gundam pilot," Trowa replied evenly. "They know that." 

"Of course they do," Duo retorted softly, defensiveness creeping into his voice. "Who do you think paid for Deathscythe? Penny collection boxes at the shopping malls?" 

"Don't patronize me," Trowa replied brusquely. "It's the fact that they knew who you were...are. You told Qua―us...that this was undercover. The fact that the syndicate knows your identity doesn't constitute undercover in my opinion." The Heavyarms pilot's face was immobile, his eyes fixed on Duo. 

"That depends on how you look at it," Duo muttered. 

Heero snorted, and the waitress approached with their drinks. When she left, Duo grabbed his beer, but didn't drink it. Heero sipped at his whiskey, and watched, troubled, as Trowa downed his own shot in a smooth move. 

"There's only one way to look at it," Heero said quietly. "What else do they know?" 

"That's all they know," Duo replied, but his voice was clearer. "Hel's in the clear. I was the lynchpin. They accepted her because she said she'd bring me along." 

"We fought for peace," Trowa said, and he fingered the edge of his shot glass. "I don't see how anyone could believe you'd help the syndicate, when they're no worse than the martial law that ruled this place before the wars." 

"Fuck you," Duo hissed, his chin coming up. His eyes met Trowa's gaze with a sudden force. "You can't possibly understand. The syndicate is the only thing that's keeping L2 in one piece. We have businesses now...a good economy...people have jobs. Without the syndicate, we'd be back to nothing. We don't have much, but it's better than nothing." He shoved his beer away and leaned back, crossing his arms. "I just want...I want my home to be a good home, but I'll settle for safe and prosperous." 

Before Trowa could respond, Heero leaned forward, staring into the amber liquid as he spoke. "I talked to the hackers yesterday. The syndicate isn't just running guns, but also drugs, prostitution...even code. If it can be bought and sold and it's illegal somewhere, they're doing it. That isn't helping L2." 

"How would you know? The only time you were on L2, you were in Sector 1," Duo said hotly. "You have no way of comparing. Haven't you noticed we can walk down the streets in the middle of the night, and not be mugged? There's next to no crime, the streets are safe, and people have food to eat. This is a world away from what it used to be." 

"You're rationalizing," Trowa observed. 

"So what if I am." Duo glared at his beer. "We have no real industry here. We're completely reliant on the raw materials we can get from mining asteroids and shipped in from earth. If we were cut off tomorrow, this colony would starve in a matter of days." 

"Let me get this straight," Trowa said, and his voice was dangerously cool. "I shot someone...someone who..." He paused, his eyes narrowing as he stared at his glass for a moment. He lifted his eyes to Duo, eyes that flashed with a haunted pain before shuttering again. "I shot someone...and now you're telling me that your heart is not in this?" 

"I won't lie. It's not...entirely." Duo's voice was equally cool, but his fingers tightened around the beer bottle. 

"Fine." The empty shot glass was tapped on the table, once, and Trowa stood. Then he leaned down, placing his hands carefully on either side of the beer bottle and lowering his face until he was nose-to-nose with Duo. His tone was a malevolent caress, and his green eyes were blazing. "I will continue my role. And I will get Jeet away from them, and then I will be gone." Trowa stared for a second, continuing in a conversational tone, off-handedly. "And if there is so much as a single hair out of place on Jeet's head, I will _find_ you. And I will cut off your head, stick my hand down your throat, yank out your rib cage and use it as a shoebox. Have I made myself _perfectly clear_?" 

Duo didn't flinch, but his eyes dropped. The barest move signaled his surrender. 

Trowa stared for several seconds more, then pushed away from the table with a violent grace. Stalking off, he caught the waitress near the bar, taking the shot of tequila from her tray with out a word. He tipped it back with an elegant motion and set it on the bar with a sharp clank, never once pausing as he left the restaurant. 

Heero gritted his teeth and turned to look at Duo, who was still studying the beer bottle in his hands. There were several minutes of silence at the table, during which Heero accepted the next shot of whiskey and sipped it without comment. Finally Duo shifted next to him, still cradling the full beer bottle. 

"Sorry," Duo whispered. 

"I don't want your apologies," Heero replied harshly. His lips twisted angrily. "Don't say you're sorry, just fix it." 

"How?" The thief's voice was barely audible. 

"Don't keep secrets from me, to begin with. And second, tell me why..." Heero downed the last of his whiskey and hissed as the liquor hit the back of his throat. "Tell me why, when we had two months together, you didn't see reason to mention any of this before." 

"I..." Duo shrugged, staring off into the bar, watching other patrons joining friends at a table nearby. Their voices were muffled from the dampener, but it was obvious old friends were meeting. "I wanted to pretend." 

"Pretend what?" Heero pushed the empty glass away, confused. 

"For five years, I've had to deal with whispers following me everywhere on campus. Students...our age...mostly don't remember the details of the war. They were too busy ignoring it or worrying about their next meal, to think about something happening so far away. But the professors seemed to know. And the way they treated me, the other kids noticed. People don't approach someone when they see adults acting scared of that person." Duo shrugged, and fingered the edge of the paper label on the beer bottle. "I was the campus pariah, and most people weren't sure why. We were killers...for a just cause, maybe, but still murderers. A hundred years from now, we'll be the bogeymen that parents use to get their kids to eat vegetables." He sighed, a long slow breath. 

Heero couldn't think of what to say, but he sensed Duo wasn't done yet. 

"I just...wanted to be someone waiting tables, just out of college, with no history. I wanted to pretend," he said, and a hint of desperation crept into his voice. "Doesn't that mean anything to you? The only pretending I ever did growing up was about getting dinner when I hadn't eaten, but stomachs don't get filled with daydreams. I wanted to be someone...just working, you know, a normal life...bills, pizza, laundry, the stupid stuff...with someone...I...love. I knew it wouldn't last, and I kept meaning to tell you, but I wanted to pretend as long as I could..." 

Heero frowned, sorting through Duo's tone and words carefully, weighing them. Duo craves normality, the small voice observed. Heero understood. It was the reason he'd fled to L1, but it wasn't really his home, and it certainly wasn't filled with people aware of his history or his role in the war. But as he reviewed Duo's words, Heero tripped mentally, stunned at the implications. His blue eyes wide, he lifted his head to stare at Duo, but the man's head was turned away. 

"Look, I'm sorry...I really am. I should have told you both," Duo said. His lips were twisted in a bitter smile. "But now you know, and you're right, I won't do it again. You told me during the war that..." He pushed the beer away and stood up. "Fuck it. I'm sorry, okay? The rest of it...never mind." Duo dropped a handful of credits on the table. "There. It's on me. See you back at the hotel." 

With that, Duo strode from the bar, his long wool coat billowing behind him like the spread wings of a carrion crow. 

* * *

"Where's Day?" Hilde's voice was sharp as she opened the door to let Heero in. 

He shrugged. 

She frowned at him for a second, and then headed back to the room's living area. Trowa was on one of the chairs, with Enny spread across the loveseat, a notepad in her lap. Schematics were spread across the coffee table. Trowa looked uncomfortable, hunched over in the pink-and-green floral-pattern chair. He didn't look up at Heero, but Enny waved. 

Hilde handed the dark-haired man a blank notepad. "Tomorrow morning, I want you and Day to go through the hotel's meeting room, and the rest of the hotel, finding holes in the system. Trey's going to be with security, finding out about the regular staff, the cameras..." Heero settled himself down to study the plans, the guest list, and the requirements for each guest, nodding at appropriate points as Hilde outlined the job. 

Two hours passed as they discussed the details of the job. Enny was jotting down notes, and adding comments where helpful. Trowa's expression was sullen, but he reviewed the hotel's floor plan carefully and spoke up as he noted issues. 

"We should use this conference room," he said, when Hilde paused. He turned the floor plan around to show her what he meant. "The cameras here, here and here look like they're aimed in this direction, and that will give us more coverage than this room. There's a gap, here." He tapped on the plan with a forefinger. 

"Seventeen people, not counting personal bodyguards and assistants," Enny said. "That room can only fit forty-five people, if we do conference seating. That's fifty-one, total, assuming each person brings one bodyguard and one assistant." 

"What about this room? It's nearly a ballroom, but then we could do a round. People won't feel comfortable with their backs to each other," Hilde pointed out. "Seating for seventy is more than we need, but that gives us room to work." 

Trowa nodded, studying the security plans. Heero leaned forward, about to say something when there was a knock at the door. 

"Shit. If that's not Day, I'm going to skin him alive," Hilde muttered, getting up to answer the door. When she opened it, Enny and Heero both raised their heads at her startled gasp. "Jeet?" 

Trowa froze, and Heero could see the man's knuckles go white around the notepad in his hands. A second later Jeet stepped through the doorway, clutching his sketchpad and looking nervous. Duo sauntered in behind him, grinning expansively, but his eyes were flat. 

"Some things are negotiable," Duo told no one in particular. "Jeet may have to be babysat during the convention itself, but at least he's around now to help us." 

"Jeet!" Enny shot up from her chair, the spell finally undone. Her green-dyed bangs swung as she clambered straight over the loveseat to embrace the young man. "Are you okay? Did they do anything to you? You'd better―" 

"No, I'm fine," Jeet replied, laughing self-consciously. "I was...supposed to start work tomorrow. You know, back on the job, where I belong." He shrugged, and grinned at the floor, his voice dropping to a mumble. "I figured Hel had decided I couldn't really help..." 

"Don't be stupid," Hilde teased, her expression going flat as her gaze fell on Duo's tense form. She chewed her lower lip for a second, and then sighed. "Take off your coats and stay awhile. We were just about to order room service. Now that you're here, we can go over this one more time. Maybe you'll see if we missed anything." 

It was three hours later before they pushed the papers back and declared it a night. Trowa immediately stood and left without a word to anyone, and Jeet followed after a moment's hesitation. Enny watched the two leave, then turned to Hilde with a wry shrug. Duo ignored it all. He had remained silent most of the evening, apparently content to listen to the others talk while he studied the plans. 

"Day, what did you do?" Hilde's voice was cool. 

"I had a chat with Alan about the proper persuasive methods to use for our team," he replied calmly. 

"You'd better not have―" 

Duo waved a hand dismissively. "I was the picture of politeness. I just smiled at him and explained it all in a pleasant voice. Jeet's back...until Friday morning. Alan could only compromise so far, despite my best attempts." His laugh was a low bark, and he stood up, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair. "I'm going to bed. Wake me only if you don't want to live to see the colony lights go up again." 

When the door slammed behind him, Hilde turned a bewildered face to Heero. 

"I don't know," he said, answering the unspoken question. 

The two women stared at him for several seconds, then Hilde glanced over at Enny, who nodded. The pimp smiled, an unexpectedly sincere expression, and cocked her head at Heero. 

"Maybe you should stay here tonight," she suggested quietly. "It seems Day needs some time to himself." 

"You can take that bed, and we'll share tonight," Hilde called. "You two want to watch a movie before bed?" 

"I am not watching a chick movie," Heero growled. He was too tired to deal with something that would make the girls cry happily. 

Enny grinned widely and shook her head. "Do we look like girls that watch romantic movies? Nobody's giving us chocolates and flowers. Why should we watch a movie full of that crap?" She grabbed a pair of sweatpants from her suitcase and tossed them to Heero. "Those might fit you. I think there's a good car chase and explosion movie on." 

Hilde launched herself onto one of the beds and stretched out on her stomach. "What's the body count?" 

"Hopefully high," the other woman replied. 

Heero, watching the two of them, could only shake his head. Somewhere inside of him, though, the small voice was telling him that both women deserved flowers, and chocolate, too. They deserved something for understanding so perfectly without him saying a word. 

* * *

Tuesday morning, at ten standard time, a young man in black proceeded to infiltrate the hotel's staff areas. Heero, watching from the security office, was pleased to see that not only were there impenetrable areas, but that the majority of staff knew the faces of their coworkers for their shift. It took Duo considerably longer than Heero had expected, but when they met up at lunch, Duo brought evidence of making it into two different conference rooms. He'd also made it into the restaurant's cold storage and the women's locker room. The team discussed the holes he'd found, and Trowa spent two hours with the security staff going over the issues. 

At three standard time, a second young man forced his way into the hotel, from the loading dock. Heero was careful to only disable the staff he met, informing each that he was part of a test on the security system, and telling them to stay seated. He was gratified to note that a number of the security staff refused to believe his explanation, but he made sure to leave them with no more than simple bruises as he knocked them out. Relying on his speed and the unexpected move of a frontal attack, he made his way from the dock, busted open two doors, but was stopped just before the conference rooms. In the hallway outside the doors, Trowa and ten employees joined him. Several of the staff brandished truncheons, and two had coshes. 

A second meeting was held over dinner, and the team reviewed the staff listings. A number of the working employees were shifted around, giving the more complacent staff different areas or a different working day, as needed. Duo's and Heero's reports were placed against Hilde's and Enny's conversations with Alan's staff. Trowa, as security liaison, made notes for his break-in attempt, which would happen as the third shift came on duty at eleven. 

Jeet listened carefully, his hand moving constantly as he did quick sketches of nearly every person in the restaurant. The team was in the back, with the table's dampeners on, but he had a clear view of most of the rest of the hotel's patrons. Heero glanced over, and was surprised to see a reasonably good sketch of Enny and himself, with their heads down over a notepad. The dark-haired man frowned and tugged at the sketchpad until the younger man released it. 

"You've been drawing everyone?" Heero turned the pad around so the rest of the team could see it. "I'm not sure this is a good idea." 

"I'll throw them away, or burn them or something," Jeet replied nervously. "I'm just practicing." 

Heero studied the various unfinished sketches on the first sheet, and then flipped to the next. Several faces he recognized, but a few he didn't. He stabbed at one with a finger. "Who's this?" 

"Theresa," Jeet said quickly. "She's the second concierge. She covers during Mia's lunch break." 

"And this?" 

"Uh..." The young man closed his eyes, and then opened them, smiling smugly. "Harumi. Works in the kitchen as a dishwasher." 

"I thought you were with Trey all day," Enny interrupted. Beside her, Trowa nodded, studying the pictures silently. 

"I was. But we were all over the place..." He shrugged. "What about it? No one knew I was drawing them." 

"Did you draw them right then?" Duo cocked his head at the picture of the back of his head, the braid at an angle as he turned. 

"Oh, no," Jeet replied, and grinned widely. "I wasn't going to do that. People get nervous." 

"Draw..." Heero shoved the sketchpad back at Jeet while he thought. "Draw the front desk manager." 

Jeet raised his eyebrows until they were almost hidden in the sheaf of brilliant blue hair, and grinned. Ducking his head, he was silent for a moment. The pencil's scratching was the only sound at the table. A few minutes later he flipped the sketchpad around to show them a small portrait of Emily. All of them recognized the woman, as she was normally at the front desk as they'd come and gone through the lobby. 

"Shit," Hilde said, leaning closer. 

Heero nodded, and realized the benefit of Jeet's abilities. The pictures had enough personality that it wasn't just his skills as an artist that made them valuable. It was the fact that they could work as police sketches, if needed. Someone could be identified from the image. 

Glancing up, Duo's deep blue eyes caught Heero's. Duo tapped at the sketchpad, and glanced at Trowa, who raised his eyebrows. Heero watched closely, waiting, and after a heartbeat Trowa nodded, once. Duo's lips quirked, and he looked back at Heero, who narrowed his eyes. 

"Let us in on the conversation," Enny said. She was looking back and forth between the three pilots, her expression baffled. 

"Jeet, can you recognize faces and draw them from memory later?" Heero's voice was neutral. 

"If I have several minutes to study them, yeah, I guess so." 

"What about from photographs?" Hilde, catching the drift, leaned forward with an excited look in her eye. 

"That's harder," Jeet admitted. "You can't see them move, and when people don't want to be recognized, they change the way they walk, or talk, or their facial expression." He glanced over at Duo before his eyes slid away, back down to the sketchpad in front of him. 

"But you could do it, and remember, better than most people," Hilde pressed. 

"I can try." Jeet glanced up, suspicious. "What are you getting at?" 

Duo chuckled. "Alan wanted you to be babysat to make sure Trey stays in line," he announced bluntly. Jeet's eyes went wide, and he looked at Trowa in shock, who pointedly ignored them both. Duo shook his head. "But the biggest problem of security is making sure who isn't allowed past. When there's so many new faces, people get confused." 

"What would you want me to do?" 

"Stay in the security office," Enny said, a grin spreading across her face. "Watch the cameras, all of them, and tell us when you see a face you don't know." 

"Or a face you've been told shouldn't be there," Hilde added. "Leah gave us a list of names of people that might cause trouble, that the security will have to keep out. The pictures are up in the room. But the staff can't go around accosting guests, and there's no way the employees can memorize that many faces in time. But if you see the pictures...and then see the people...you could alert staff." 

"I can do that," Jeet said. 

Duo sat back with a satisfied grin. "Guess I'm paying another visit to Alan tomorrow." 

* * *

By Thursday afternoon, the busted doors had been repaired with solid replacements. Hilde announced them satisfactory after several failed attempts by Heero and assorted staff to break through. Additional cameras were installed; existing ones were checked and repaired as needed. Staff had been informed in two different meetings, led by Trowa and Enny, as to their new shift schedules and walking patterns. Many of the meeting's guests had begun arriving. Jeet was stationed in the lobby watching each group arrive and get checked in. 

Duo had reported at lunch that Alan was intrigued by the team's use of Jeet's artistic abilities, and would argue for the young man's inclusion. Leah, the dark-skinned woman acting as Alan's highest manager, had stopped by with several videotapes and tested the blue-haired young man. She was pleased to announce he identified each questionable person correctly. Most of them were previously known spies or informants working for Preventers, and weren't likely to try again, but the syndicate preferred to have its bases covered. 

Heero stopped by the lobby to check on Jeet before heading to the conference room. Hilde and Enny were conferring with the hotel's catering staff about the seating arrangements. Lunch would be served in the room, and a mid-afternoon snack. The two women had determined placements for most of the bodyguards that would be present, and gave Heero his badge to identify him as hotel security. He took the two for Duo and Trowa and headed up to their hotel rooms, where the two men were supposed to be reviewing the schematics on the duct and sewer access to the hotel. 

The dark-haired man pinched the bridge of his nose as he got off the elevator and turned right towards their set of rooms. It had been a long day, and it wouldn't be over for several more hours. His mental voice had been silent most of the day, forcibly shoved away as he struggled to ignore the fact that they were going to be surrounded by the leaders of nearly every syndicate, mafia, yakuza, and kombinat. Everyone in one place, and the team had no way to discuss whether they could take advantage of it. 

As the hours had passed, Heero had begrudgingly admitted there was little they could do. Their thorough preparations would make it impossible for anyone to get through. They were effectively pinned in place, a trap of their own design. 

If Quatre were alive, he thought, and sternly squashed the grief. 

There were two men waiting in the hallway as Heero turned the corner. He instinctively braced himself, hands out, arms lax, prepared to defend or strike, and then realized one of the men was Alan. 

"Mr. Young," came the silky baritone voice, and the copper-haired man grinned. "We were wondering when you'd get here." 

"Is there a problem?" Heero kept his expression steady, but his annoyance with the man was clear in his flat tone. 

"Ah," Alan said, shrugging self-deprecatingly. "Perhaps. And we'd appreciate your help with it. You see, those questions we had...have been answered. One of our colleagues on earth has a good memory, and several pieces seem to have fallen in place." 

Heero raised an eyebrow. 

"I'll get to the point, then," Alan said, chuckling softly. "Trey Barlow was also a Gundam pilot." 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamian. I do, however, own a picture of a dead guy. Okay, technically, it's a picture of a picture of a dead guy. I don't know where it came from, but it seems to be an 8x10 shot of someone's funeral, including all the flower arrangements, a portrait of the aforementioned Dead Guy, and the coffin, covered with more flowers. Looks like it's a little over a hundred years old. Why someone had this – let alone saved it – is beyond me. You don't even have to sue me to get it. I'd happily give it away, if only I could find someone morbid enough to think it's cool! 

SilverCaladan: That's the thing...the team's being watched too closely to allow any loopholes. Kind of a rock/hard place situation, eh. And now, they don't even have a way to contact back up, or let anyone know. Plus there's that little cliffhanger at the end...Have I mentioned recently that yes, I am EVIL? Hehe. 

JuliTina: Heero's been in pain, but I figure he's still pretty indestructible, and recovers quickly, as does Duo. And now that I think about it, you're probably hating Alan even more, eh? Yeah. He's just so...smarmy. 

Aryl: Oh, right, the commentaries. *sigh* Once the story turned so dark, I just couldn't do the humor – let alone the fact that spoilers would creep out in the character discussions. There's too much going on, still to come, and I didn't want that out. But I figure I'll do one last big commentary for everyone to enjoy when it's all done. 

Turtlefire: See note to SilverCaladan. Bwahahaha. I'm not sure the story will have any more lemons, since there's just no time or place for it now, and they're hurtling rapidly towards the conclusion. Which, btw, is probably going to...ooh, let me stop here. 

GoldenRat: Uh, well, I'm hoping for a happy ending. I have my fingers crossed, at least! 

Mashiro Karasu: A stomach shot, technically, is non-fatal. The injury itself doesn't kill you (although I hear it hurts like hell). It's the trauma associated with the pain that usually causes a heart attack on the spot. There's also the chance of hitting the spine, causing paralysis, or hitting the top of the hip if you shoot lower. That would mean bone replacement and probably walking with a limp (and some pain) for the rest of the life. If the stomach or intestines were hit, the body could go septic pretty quickly, and that's a long, slow painful death that's a byproduct of the bullet, but it's not the bullet itself that did the killing, technically. Yeah, I did research for this – which is why more didn't get out alive. It just wasn't realistic to say, "hit in the sternum" and think that this would be survivable. It's not, 90% of the time. 

Catgirlie: I understand the importance of deathfic warnings, but the story just writes itself, and I certainly hadn't planned for blood and gore. But when I'm done, I promise to review and change whatever warnings are needed for long-term archiving. :) 

Also, thanks to those who reviewed, commented, encouraged, cheered, and gasped over the last chapter: Koyote, Moffit, Morgan, CleverYoungThief, Casey Valhalla, Arithkenshin, Tyr, Deb Shenlong, Calic0Cat, and hopefully I've not forgotten anyone. I think most people are still in shock from ch43, and spent ch44 recovering! ;D 


	45. in shades of gray

**03 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

Now frontiers shift like desert sands  
While nations wash their bloodied hands  
Of loyalty, of history, in shades of gray  
― David Gilmour 

A cell phone rang, and Alan held up a hand for quiet as he answered. "Kessler. Yeah. Send him up." Alan snapped the phone away and tucked it back in his suit pocket. "Now, Mr. Young, we require your assistance dealing with Mr. Barlow." 

"My assistance." Heero phrased it as a statement, not a question. 

"I arrived with eight men," Alan replied, chuckling softly. "However, seven of them are downstairs restraining your colleague. He's a good boy, but he has a temper. He wasn't pleased at the news." 

Heero nodded, but his expression didn't change. 

"I was given to understand you once took on seven men at one time, at Pop's bar. Tariq here can handle five." Alan jerked his head at the broad-shouldered man standing behind him. Tariq bared his teeth at Heero, obviously unimpressed by the shorter, slimmer man. The copper-headed manager smiled wryly. "I'm hoping between the two of you, you'll be able to assist me in convincing Mr. Barlow to go peacefully." 

"What do you plan to do with him?" 

"Keep him, for the time being," the other man said, and shrugged. "Although if the mafia are as obstinate as they usually are, Mr. Barlow will be our trump card. Our sources indicate that he was most likely the pilot of Heavyarms. That was the Gundam that killed a number of European mafia while in Italy." 

"I doubt he was aiming for them. I seem to recall the Gundams were fighting OZ and the Alliance, not the underground." Heero's voice was flat. 

"You know your history." Alan laughed and leaned against the wall. "No, but many of the mafia now were OZ members then. And they have very long memories. If we need to appease them to achieve an agreement, Mr. Barlow will suffice as a trading card. Now, if you don't mind, I think we should get on with this." He led the way down to the end of the hallway, to the door of Trowa's and Jeet's room. Alan rapped softly with his knuckles, and several seconds later the door swung open. 

"Yes?" Trowa looked tired, but his green eyes were sharp. He flicked his hair out of his eyes, his gaze measuring Heero, Tariq, and Alan's smooth smile. 

"Mr. Barlow," Alan said. "We'd like you to come with us." 

Trowa didn't say anything, but frowned slightly as he stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Alan smiled, pleased, just as Tariq pulled out a set of handcuffs. The clink of metal warned Trowa and he spun in place, bringing the heel of his hand against Heero's jaw. The dark-haired man barely dodged the strike, and Trowa was swung sideways with his elbow, jamming Tariq's chest. The larger man cried out, clutching his body as he stumbled backwards. The handcuffs fell to the floor. 

"Enough, or he dies!" 

The three instantly froze. Slowly Trowa lowered his arms, able to see what Heero couldn't. Heero flexed his jaw, and turned to see Jeet at the other end of the hallway, his brown eyes wide in terror. Tiny was behind him, holding a six-inch switchblade to the young man's jugular. 

The blue-haired artist flinched, and a thin trickle of blood ran down his neck. 

"Now that we have that straightened out," Alan said, "I'd appreciate it if you'd follow us calmly and professionally. You make another move, and I'll instruct Tiny to slice the kid to ribbons. You try to get away, and I won't call Tiny in a half-hour to let him know the kid can live. That clear?" 

Trowa nodded curtly. 

"Good," Alan replied. "In that case, Mr. Young, we now longer need your assistance. Carry on." 

Five minutes later, Heero was alone in the hallway. Tariq and Alan had left with Trowa. Tiny had hauled Jeet into Trowa's hotel room, slamming the door behind them. Heero leaned against the wall with one hand, and exhaled slowly. The trap was closing in on them. 

* * *

Heero was awake at five the next morning. Blinking, he stared groggily at the ceiling before hauling himself out of bed, throwing his pillow at Duo's sleeping form as he stumbled past. 

In the shower, he contemplated the previous evening's events. The team had spent two hours after dinner rearranging to cover the gap left by Trowa's absence. Heero had only been able to determine Trowa was probably still in the hotel, being held somewhere for quick production should the syndicate require his presence. Jeet had reappeared for dinner, shaken up and quiet, but willing to continue his role. Hilde was drawn and exhausted, but her jaw was set. Duo was bruised and his hip was bothering him, and his countenance flashed fire at anyone who approached him. Most of the hotel staff figured out quickly that last-minute questions would have to wait until the morning. 

The dark-haired man washed the soap out of his hair and stood in the shower for several minutes more, enjoying the hot water slamming against his back. At some point, he promised himself, he would figure out how he felt about Duo's confession, and the strange feeling he got that Duo still didn't trust him. But not now, he decided. There simply wasn't time to deal with that, not yet. 

Dressing quickly in the bathroom in a white button-up shirt, and black slacks, Heero returned to the bedroom to find Duo waiting his turn at the shower. Nodding a greeting, Heero started up the room's coffee pot for Duo, pulled on his black boots, and let himself out of the room. Some of the night staff would be returning in the afternoon for second shift, and he needed to be there to answer any final questions. 

At eight, the team was in place. Enny was at the door, assisting the security guards checking identification from the attendees, while Hilde was helping attendees find their seats. Jeet was with the video security guard, in the downstairs staff area, watching the cameras. Duo had gone for more coffee, while Heero had taken up position on the north wall, where he could see the entire room and the entrances. 

The room was large, with high ceilings. The dampeners were set on low, muffling the voices but allowing Heero and Duo the ability to hear raised voices clearly, and to speak softly over the commlink, if needed. The tables were set in a U-shape, with the attendees along the outside perimeter. The seating labels were of regions, not personal names. L2 was on the far end, facing Heero, while L4's representative would be on the near side, with his back to Heero. There were two seats for the North European Alliance, facing the doors, flanked by three seats for the Asian regions. Two seats for North America were on the North European Alliance's other side. The South American representative was at the far end of the near wing of tables, being seated next to the heavy-set South European representative. 

The men and women of varying ages were dressed nearly identically in dark professional attire, and all had one bodyguard per person. The bodyguards stationed themselves behind the chairs, standing in an informal row about three or four feet back from the tables. There were six assistants seated along the outer wall, behind the head of the table. Many of the assistants were chatting quietly with each other, introducing themselves as they shuffled papers and prepared to hand out each representatives' reports. 

Heero leaned against the wall where he stood on an orchestra platform, able to see over the heads of the bodyguards to the people being seated. The crackle in his ear indicated Jeet was running the test on the conference system Duo had selected. The hotel security was running on one channel, with the team on another. The young artist would be able to switch back and forth between each to relay intermittent news. Heero had argued against two systems, but Hilde's decision was final. She didn't want the regular staff communication lines cluttered with their organizational chatter. 

Heero nudged the device attached to his belt loop, and switched over to the main security system, listening for several minutes as the staff reported in for regular checkpoints. Two male employees had just completed the check of the back loading dock, while another reported all clear on the fourth floor. There was a pause, and a recording broke in to remind specific staff positions to switch to a different location. In five minutes, three more employees would register their locations and confirm completion of their circuit, and the system would issue another reminder. Heero bumped the small device with his elbow. Immediately the line was quiet except for Hilde's soft conversation with a gentleman from Kenya, one of two representing the African continent's interests. 

"Here's your caffeine," Duo whispered. He frowned when he seemed to realize he hadn't startled Heero, who took the drink without comment. Shrugging, Duo made his way to the southern end of the conference room, and hopped up on the platform at that end. His braid swung against his backside as he moved, and in the movement of bending and leaping, Heero could make out the Ruger tucked into the holster under the man's shirt. 

By eight-thirty, the room was nearly full, rumbling from the chatter of people meeting in person, some for the first time. The representative from the Japanese yakuza was discussing trade agreements on prostitution rings with the South Asian and African regional representatives, while the Russian kombinat was laughing over Polish jokes with the American underground. The bevy of accents assailed Heero's ears, and he relaxed his focus, letting his soldier's training take over. He didn't registered single statements but tracked the rise and fall of the conversation volumes. 

Thus, when the room fell silent, Heero was instantly on guard. Four people had entered, one of whom approached Alan and was shaking the L2 representative's hand over the table. The woman behind the man was instantly recognizable anywhere on earth or the colonies. Heero checked his vitals: respiration normal, pulse normal, expression blank. 

Relena Darlian was chatting with the representative from L1. Behind her, Wufei Chang was looking bored. 

The young woman was wearing a crimson suit, the bright shade making her stand out in the dark-suited crowd like a cardinal in a field of jaybirds. Relena's hair was pulled back in a short ponytail, and Heero noted she'd cut her hair to just past her shoulders at some point. Her skirt was short, and her legs were long. He was amused to note her shoes matched the suit. Behind her, Wufei was dressed in dark gray slacks and a steel-gray Chinese shirt, knots leading from the monk collar down to the hem. The man's long hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail at the base of his neck, and his eyes darted around Relena's personal perimeter. 

Heero glanced over at Duo, who had been watching another group being seated by Hilde. Duo turned his head, and Heero noticed Duo's smile became even wider. He was certain that Duo's eyes were blue ice chips at the sight of Relena's entrance. Something was not right. Heero registered his soldier's instinct as he observed the easy elegance with which Relena moved to her chair, laughing at her neighbor's words as Wufei helped her into her seat. 

The man on Relena's right was older, graying at the temples and slightly heavy-set, but his double-breasted suit fit him neatly. His jocular expression didn't match with the stern Asian faces arrayed along his right, but the nearest representative was nodding politely. 

"That's President Haune," Duo's voice whispered into Heero's ear. 

"Roger that," Jeet replied immediately, a strange note of pride in his voice at the military term. "Recognized him from the media reports." 

"Everyone in," Enny interrupted. "Lock-down proceeding." She was stationed outside the door, and Heero saw her poke her head in the room. She nodded at Duo, waiting for Hilde and the two catering staff to leave before quietly shutting the door. A second later the locking mechanisms on the doors were bolted home, and the room was silent for a minute. Alan stood up, bowing formally to the entire group before moving to the podium that stood between the two entrances. He shuffled the papers in his hand for a minute, cleared his throat, and began speaking. 

"Greetings to everyone, and thank you for arriving on such short notice," he began, his smooth baritone friendly and warm. "This is truly an historical occasion. But first, because so many expressed anxiety over the arrangements, let me assure you again of two facts. First, our elite teams have made sure the security is impenetrable while we meet. And second, there will be no one knocking on the outer door because there is no one to knock. I am pleased to announce that Mr. Haune, President of the Interstellar Earth Sphere Council, has joined us. With his assistance, the Preventers are..." Alan paused to chuckle at his own joke. "...prevented from interfering." 

There was a rustle as a number of the attendees murmured to their neighbors. Duo's gaze was wandering, assessing the faces of the people he could see. Heero did the same, and noticed that many seemed to relax for the first time since they'd arrived. One of the assistants stood up, a sheaf of papers in his arms, and began placing them in front of each representative while Alan spoke. 

"And now, I'd like you to turn to the first page of your packets. The L2 business statistics are outlined here, and I'd like to walk you through an overview of our holdings in the Earth Sphere..." 

* * *

Two hours later, Heero was wondering if he was going to die of boredom. Five years ago, Relena had asked him to become head of her security, but he'd left that offer behind when he'd gone back to L1. Now, as he shifted quietly in place, he decided he had made the right move. If all her meetings droned on like this, there was no way he could've stayed sane in the job. Frankly, he found himself wondering how Wufei could continue to stand there, his eyes like flint, unmoving for three hours behind Relena's chair. 

For that matter, Heero thought, studying the head table without focusing his eyes directly on the young woman, he wondered how Relena could sit through this and not fall asleep. Alan had spoken for ten minutes, outlining the extent of L2's involvement in the world's underground markets, and its recent acquisitions of several mining asteroid contracts. When he sat down, an L1 representative stood up and began the same type of speech, but focused on L1's activities. The first five speakers were fascinating, Heero had thought, detailing such complex networks of guns, drugs, prostitution, extortion, and other illegal activities, as well as the legit businesses acting as cover, the number of people employed, and even the health benefits offered by several of the syndicates. 

The eighth speaker had been Relena. The North European Alliance holdings were virtually identical to the two speakers who had preceded her, and she delivered her speech in a friendly tone as though she were simply discussing the weather. Heero struggled to reconcile the young woman discussing stolen code rings with the girl he'd once kissed, and couldn't. Finally he gave up, and fell back to musing about whether the speechwriters had all been working from the same template. Relena sat down to applause, and a nervous young man from China stepped up to the podium. Heero found it amusing that these paragons of illegal activity were essentially presenting business cases for their organizations. It was likely, he decided, that these speeches would become the basis for any jockeying for power during the afternoon's negotiations. 

At noon, the earpiece crackled softly. "Doors unlocking," came the soft announcement in Heero's ear. "Enny's bringing lunch." 

The doors were unlocked a second later, cutting off the last few words of the young woman from South America. She finished to a smatter of applause, and Enny entered at the head of a number of staff pushing white-clothed kitchen carts. 

"Everything's all clear out here," Hilde reported over the line. "Jeet caught two reporters a half-hour ago. Security hauled them off without a problem." 

"Reporters?" Duo sounded skeptical, and Heero looked up to see the other man's cold grin. 

"Cameras and everything," Jeet replied. "That's what their identification said." 

The line fell silent again, and Heero nodded as one of the hotel security staff relieved him. Stepping outside the room, he joined Hilde as she ate at a small table opposite the doors. A few minutes later Enny and Duo were poking at the chicken, filling their plates and settling on folding chairs beside the other two. They watched as a number of attendees took bathroom breaks, followed by vigilant bodyguards. Additional security was in place outside the bathrooms, and inside. 

Hopefully there would be no altercations between guests during the break, Heero thought. He nudged the transponder and switched to the hotel security's comm channel. For several minutes there was silence, then a recorded message reminding staff came through, and he relaxed. 

"How're you doing staying awake?" Hilde nudged Duo, who shrugged. 

"It's one big business meeting," he replied around a mouthful of salad. 

"Any word?" Enny glanced up at Heero, and mouthed Trowa's name silently. Heero shook his head. 

They ate the rest of their meal in silence. 

* * *

Heero was finding himself almost disappointed with the lack of fireworks. The meeting had been proceeding relatively peacefully for an hour, with minor debate over market exchange rates between the continents, with the colonies agreeing to be fixed against the North European underground market prices. Currently the Russian and Chinese representatives were holding a civil debate about whether Northern Asia should ally with the European or Asian syndicates in the weight of their markets. 

"Guys, just want to let you know the security comlink is moving to a different channel," Jeet announced through the earpiece. 

Heero frowned, and uttered a single quiet word. "Why?" 

"Hold on," the young man replied. "Want to make sure I get this right." There was a click as he switched over. A minute later he was back. "There are two systems administrators who control the communications systems, along with reservations, restaurants, maid service, and the rest of it. Everything goes through them, and they're having some sort of problem with the computers." 

"What kind?" Hilde's voice was bewildered. "What does this have to do with the security comlinks?" 

"The computer record all the conversation on the channels, but the system also sends out recorded verbal reminders every fifteen minutes." 

"What about it?" Heero shifted in place, annoyed at being told what he already knew. How like a hotel, Heero thought, nearly rolling his eyes in exasperation. They don't trust the employees to do their own jobs, but have to remind them. 

"So what's going on?" Enny sounded irritated. "Get to the point." 

"The computer guys have discovered that parts of the conversations aren't being recorded. Like, for five-minute periods, and then everything's fine. And the reminders for people to move from one place to another aren't coming through, either." Jeet paused, and Heero heard the click as the artist switched lines again, and then Jeet was back. "Terry says it's been going on since mid-morning, but the computer guys think they'll have it fixed soon." 

"Cause?" Duo's whisper. Heero could see Duo's eyes narrow as he swept his gaze across the debating representatives. 

"Uh...something about upgrading the management systems over night that might have caused an error in the server," Jeet said. "I don't know what that means, but that's what Terry is reporting. He's going upstairs to check it out." 

"Good," Hilde replied. "Does it work if they switch to a different channel?" 

"Well...they don't know. They're just now trying that." Jeet's voice contained the sound of a shrug. "Right now they're on channel four, in case you want to listen in. I'll let you know if it changes again." 

"Roger that," Hilde told him. 

Heero watched the Asian representative finally agreeing to Relena's persuasive arguments about market weighing. At the back of his head, he was impressed and dismayed by her ability to diplomatically sway nearly any representative present as she mediated the debates. At the front of his mind, however, he was studying the comm issue. It was one more thing that simply wasn't right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Jeet's voice interrupted his thoughts. 

"Terry says the day manager doesn't think the computer guys know what they're doing. He wants to know if any of us have the skills to figure it out." 

Heero's eyes shot over to Duo, who nodded once. Heero narrowed his eyes in response, and gave a subtle twitch of his head. 

"Day?" Hilde asked. 

"No," Heero replied immediately. Taking cover under the rustling and conversation as the attendees prepared for the next agenda item, he hissed his instructions quickly into the slim mouthpiece. "The doors are locked. If we unlock them, we're admitting there's a problem. Give the sys admins until the break. Switch Day and Hel, then, if it's still a problem." 

There was a pause, and Enny's voice came over the line. "He's right. We open the doors to switch guards, and the rest of the crew will know something's not right." 

"Yeah," Hilde said, voicing her final decision. "Day and Hito stay in place for the time being. Keep us informed." 

"Okay," Jeet replied. "Over and out," he added, a little too gleefully. 

* * *

The dampeners' ability to muffle low conversation was overridden as the South European Alliance representative, Mr. Fiori, pounded his fist on the table. His bald scalp was nearly red with fury. "I did not fly all the way here to relinquish control of our region," he barked, nearly coming out of his seat. 

Heero's eyebrows went up involuntarily, and he hissed into the mike. "Did you catch the start of that?" 

Duo shook his head. "Couldn't hear it over the dampeners," he replied. "I think he's talking to the L3 representative. But that Italian has been getting annoyed over the past half-hour." 

"Roger that." Heero sighed and checked the clock on the wall: an hour until the break. 

"Mr. Fiori," Alan began, but he was cut off when the Italian representative turned to him with a snarl. 

"L2 is not the center of the universe, and we are not going to lay down and let you run things simply because you managed to finally bring L4 into the group. You rely on our raw materials to produce anything, and don't think we've forgotten that for a second." 

"It's been six years, Vincent," Louise Mendoza, the South American representative, snapped. "You can get over your hatred of the colonies at some point." 

"We'd like to make peace," Alan said, smiling at the young woman who was bristling at the Italian representative. "And the colonies are aware that there are hard feelings that still remain." 

"Here it comes," Duo whispered. 

"We have a peace offering for you," the copper-haired man said. "We will turn over the Gundam pilot known as 03, if in return you agree to the terms of our agreement on the raw materials shipments." 

There was a stunned silence in the room. Heero could see several of the representatives staring outright at Alan, who leaned back in his chair. 

"How dare you," someone breathed, just loud enough to be heard over the dampeners. 

Heero frowned, unable to tell who'd spoken. 

"Mark Hewlett, from L3," Duo informed him. Duo's eyes were fixed on a man whose back was to Heero, but the dark-haired man could see the representative's gaunt shoulders were hunched in anger. 

"Don't even try, Representative!" Louise's blue-black hair swung against her shoulders as she leaned over the table at the man from L3. "You've never expressed any interest in your Gundam pilot. You can't convince us now that you have any claim. I say let the South European Alliance fulfill its vengeance." 

"What's going on?" Enny's voice broke in. 

"They're turning Trey over to the South European Alliance," Heero hissed. 

There was a quick whine that was cut off, and Heero realized Duo had turned up the sensitivity on his mike. Heero glared across the room at Duo, who shrugged. The mike had a split-second delay, but enough to produce a strange echo in Heero's ear. 

"Everyone, please," Relena said, standing with her hands out, palms down. "We can discuss this civilly. First, Mr. Hewlett, the L3 syndicate did not fund Heavyarms. The Barton family did, and they've had no ties to the syndicate since Mariamaia was defeated." 

Several heads nodded, and the L3 representative shrugged. Hewlett turned to the L4 representative to mutter something, and Heero could see a sour look on the man's profile. 

Relena, however, waited until he was quiet, and smiled sweetly. "The long-standing...wish on the part of the South European Alliance to exact retribution for their families' deaths is well-known. Assuming the L2 representative, Mr. Kessler, can actually produce the pilot, shall we consider this a peace offering?" 

"Fuck," Hilde breathed, listening through the mike system. 

"We can produce him," Alan said casually. "He's here in the hotel, in a safe location. I'll have him brought in after the break, if you'd like to see for yourself." 

The room was quiet, and Relena slowly sat back down, her sharp eyes glancing between the L2 and South European representatives. Eventually Hewlett nodded, and the young woman graced him with a beaming smile. Heero narrowed his eyes, the uncertain sense in his gut roiling back up to the surface. The Wing Zero pilot looked over at Duo, who had pulled his braid around and appeared to be studying the hair for split ends. Heero gritted his teeth. 

"Of course he's still in the hotel," the L3 representative suddenly said, and shifted to point a finger at Alan. "From what I hear, you didn't find out until last night that you even had a second Gundam pilot working for you!" 

"A second?" The Russian representative sat bolt upright, his broad face the picture of shock. Mikhel Vasilchikov glanced up at Heero, and then pointedly turned around to stare at Duo, who ignored the movement. Mikhel chuckled hoarsely. "What are you doing, growing them in vats?" 

A number of the group laughed, but Mark was having none of it. The gaunt man shook his head. "You're trying to convince us that L2 can run the colonies' combined syndicate, yet you had a wanted man on your payroll for nearly a year!" 

The tension in the room shifted suddenly, and one of the North American representatives shook her head. "Alan, this is not acceptable. L2 has been jockeying for the lead position on this council. Do you really believe it would be secret for long that you allowed a Gundam pilot to infiltrate your ranks?" 

"He didn't infiltrate," Alan retorted, but his voice was low. 

Heero nearly blinked. There was no way he should have been able to hear that over the dampeners. Something was wrong. He jerked his chin curtly at Duo; suddenly aware of the way Duo was also regarding the attendees with a vaguely delighted expression. Duo caught Heero's movement, and the thief brushed the end of his braid against his ear, and then nodded once. The dampeners were definitely malfunctioning. Heero wondered if it was connected to the issues with the computer system, but now that the representatives' voices weren't muffled thoroughly, his own voice might be heard if he checked in with Jeet for an update. Heero scowled and turned his attention back to the meeting. 

"We hired him, because he had the skills we want," Alan continued with a casual shrug. "We would have had no problem keeping him, but our debt to the South European Alliance was paramount." 

"In the future, keep us better informed," Relena murmured, but clearly enough that everyone could hear her. She tempered the comment with a smile, but it was an expression Heero recognized from the war. Relena was not pleased, but few other than the Gundam pilots might have recognized the subtle movement of her chin that indicated her irritation. "The North European Alliance has placed faith in your ability as a leader, Mr. Kessler. Do not prove us wrong by refusing to acknowledge your shortcomings when necessary." 

The Russian representative started at that, but quickly ducked his head when Relena glanced his way. She held the silence for several more seconds as she pointedly studied each representative in turn, then nodded, satisfied. She calmly sipped her tea, but Heero noted the tilt of her head. The young woman was definitely planning something, and Heero's skin prickled, a thread of cold up his spine. 

"What? Are you lost?" Jeet's voice interrupted the moment, coming through the comm. Heero frowned, shifting as he tried to determine to whom Jeet was speaking. There was a laugh, and the faint sound of a woman's voice. The young man replied with another laugh. "Oh! I don't know who's there. I'm just here for the day. Maybe Terry would know, but he's still upstairs. Do you want me to..." 

The voice trailed off. Heero's eye was caught by Duo raising his eyebrows and dropping them in an abbreviated shrug. Heero took a deep slow breath, and released it through his nose as he focused on Relena, introducing the next topic on the agenda. The break would be in an hour. Trowa would be handed to people more than happy to end his life, probably after making the last few hours of it a living hell. 

And there wasn't a damn thing Heero could do about it. 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamian. I do, however, own a fish. Not a real fish, of course, but a copper fish with holes in it and is hollow, and you can put a candle in it, and it hangs from the ceiling. Looks really cool, except that it fell down from its hook about fifteen minutes ago, hitting the stack of books on the ledge below it, and knocking everything over. Scared me out of ten years growth, and I think the dogs are still hiding under the dining room table. Stupid dogs, what if it were someone breaking into the house? Hunh. The beagle would probably offer to make them a sandwich if she got some of it. 

I know there wasn't much time between last chapter and this one for folks to comment, but I just got inspired...but before I get on to the reviews, I'd like to thank my war room cronies: ArithKenshin, CleverYoungThief, and Casey Valhalla, who had various comments and helpful bits about some of the passages in this chapter. Relena and the rest wouldn't be half as sharp without you guys. Thanks! 

Aryl: Ahem. Actually, I threatened to kill Jeet in this chapter, and I got threatened in response. But then, Jeet is a bit more likable once he lost his street-kid veneer...then again, he's also up against folks who really are far tougher than he'd ever managed to appear. That's bound to humble anyone. 

Bella: Hey, reviewers are a GOOD thing. I adore all my reviewers, so I'm glad you could join the crowd! Ahem, I actually prefer happy endings, but I go where the story leads. And Drums is, unfortunately, a complex plot. Telling it from Heero's limited POV means that there's a lot going on that isn't known and isn't explained. It's going to make these last chapters hard to write, because I don't want things to just 'happen' without precedence, but Heero couldn't be everywhere at once... 

Lainwyn: I gave a lot of thought to the way the Mafia ran a lot of areas in New England, and what it meant to the people I met, even ten years after the Mafia was crushed in Rhode Island. They remembered the peace, the security, the economy...and somehow, that was more important than the extortion, the fear, the lack of civil liberties if you were on the wrong end of things, the enforced isolation between cultures, etc. But there's a fundamental issue that I thought was true to Duo: at what price are you willing to accept a good life? He fought for the colony's freedom, so yes, he's rationalizing, but he's probably also tired of fighting. At least, that's the paradox I tried to convey. I suppose the fact that so many are cheering Trowa on says something for the lack of sympathy poor Duo is getting right now. Hm. I really haven't made him all that sympathetic through most of the story, have I. 

Kuki: Ah, breathe, breathe. Maybe I should put that as a warning: remember, while reading, to breathe! Take a break if necessary! Heh. Actually, I'm very flattered by your comments. And if it helps – which it probably doesn't – there's a few more tricks up my sleeve. 

GoldenRat: Yes, they know Trowa, and now he's a bone for the dogs. Poor guy. He's probably going to refuse to show up in the next few stories I write, out of pure annoyance. Hehe. 

Nihyaku: Cookies are good...but nice reviews are better, and less fattening! ;-) Here's a chapter for you. Now, remember to breathe... 

Also thanks to those who wrote me offline with compliments and a few bonks for the way the story has developed: Tyr, Koyote, Sevenall, CZ, Stacy, Morgan, and Moffit. 


	46. that laid the swale in rows

**03 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

To the earnest love that laid the swale in rows―  
Not without feeble-pointed spikes of flowers  
(Pale orchises)—--and scared a bright green snake.  
The fact is the sweetest dream that labor knows.  
My long scythe whispered and left the hay to make.  
― Robert Frost 

"Jeet?" Hilde's voice came over the comm. 

There was no answer. Heero lifted a hand and pressed the earpiece closer. Silence. 

"Jeet, where are you?" Hilde repeated her question. 

"Sorry, sorry," the young man's voice came back. "The...headphones were hurting my ear...just took them off for a second." 

"Don't do it again," the team leader chided him. "What's going on? What was that about someone being lost?" 

"Oh, that." The young man's nervous laughter came over the system. "Some woman was down here for an interview with the kitchen manager. She's a chef or something. I drew her a map to the management office." 

Heero frowned a little. He didn't recall any discussions about non-employee personnel in the staff areas. 

"Where's Terry?" Hilde's voice was sharp. "What's the word on that computer malfunction?" 

"It's not getting any better," Jeet replied. "He's still up in the computer room, talking to the day manager. Terry had to escort some computer guy who came to fix it, but the guy can't figure out what the problem is. He says they're going to have to reinstall the program causing the..." Jeet paused. "Waterfall failure? Something like that." 

"Cascade failure," Heero growled softly. 

"That's it." 

Heero could tell the boy had shrugged from the tone of the statement, and he nearly rolled his eyes. Across the room, Duo was smirking. Duo's eyes were trained on the three representatives from the Asian area, presenting their arguments for future market developments. 

"Are they still going to need Day?" Enny's voice broke in. 

"I don't think so," Jeet said. "Terry said this guy is pretty sharp, knew all his stuff. They're switching to channel six, by the way." 

"Keep us posted," Hilde said, and sighed. "Over and out." 

* * *

"Next on the agenda are the regional preferences for Preventer issues," Relena announced, nodding as one of the assistants came forward with handouts for the representatives. The short woman was nearly hidden as she passed between the ranks of syndicate dignitaries and their seated employees, her auburn hair just visible above the broad backs and cropped hairstyles worn by most of the personal bodyguards. The hotel's carpet muffled her footsteps, and the only sound for a minute was the slap and swish of paper being laid before each representative. 

"We have last year's requests, to refresh your memory," the North European Alliance representative continued. "You'll notice the preferences are ranked in order of need, so we'll start with the Earth regions and then move numerically through the colonies." 

Sean Renton, the representative for the incomplete L5 colony and the asteroid settlements, made a face at the young woman. "Say, next year can we start with L5 instead of end with it? I hate always being last." 

The attendees laughed, and even Relena chuckled as she began her list of Preventer assignments. It soon became clear to Heero that the true meaning behind the list was a far more insidious one than the laughter had indicated. The lists were for President Haune to relay to Director Une of each region's requests. In every case, the regions had a list of smaller operations they were willing to sacrifice for the Preventers to find or destroy, but those were coupled with requests for specific Preventer investigations to be shut down. The entire procedure was a systematic undermining of every single Preventer objective. Heero could only listen, his face carefully frozen in indifference. 

What if Relena wasn't pretending? What if all this time...she had only been waiting to move into a position of true power? 

He refused to believe it. Heero gritted his teeth, willing his breathing to stay calm, his heartbeat to continue evenly. He fought too long and too hard to achieve peace, with this very woman at the center of his actions. There was no way he'd be wiling to believe that she would turn on him, and all he'd done, this completely. His attention was caught by Duo's lazy smile. Heero frowned mentally, uncertain. He'd refused to believe Duo would willingly work for the syndicate, he reminded himself, and after all that, he'd found out he was wrong. The Deathscythe pilot did, and to some extent supported the very organization the mission was supposed to expose. 

Maybe people can change that much, Heero thought, and felt something break, just a little, inside. 

Narrowing his mental vision away from the questions roiling in his head, Heero focused on the speaker from L1 listing the colony's needs and sacrifices for the next fiscal year. The short man scrubbed at his shock of gray bristly hair, and concluded with the amount L1 would be donating to the anti-gun organization that funded the majority of the Preventers' budget. Several people nodded, impressed with the number, and Heero was reminded of the fact that the organization was Winner-founded, and Winner-run. 

Had Quatre known about this, too? Had he known about this from the beginning? It was his organization, after all... 

Heero cut off that train of thought, and sighed as he watched the President's beet-red face as the man grinned, acknowledging the syndicates' offers of ill-gotten funds. Money from crime, used to pay for the only organization left to fight major crime, and used to tie the hands of that same organization. Heero could pull out his gun, now, and take out ten of them before he'd have to eject the magazine and slam a second one home. Then he could take out the rest, and he knew he could. Take aim, fire, continue until done. Simple. He wondered if he would automatically make sure to leave a bullet for himself. If it came to that, he realized, he wasn't sure. If what he was seeing was the true state of things, he wasn't sure he was willing to fight one more time, knowing that each time the peace was destroyed so easily. 

His thoughts were interrupted as the door bolt mechanism unlocked, then slid home again with a resounding thud. 

"Hito," Jeet's voice came over. "The other line just went dead. They're doing something to the computer system. I think they unplugged the system and turned it back on." 

Rebooted, Heero's mind automatically supplied. He noticed Alan turning to stare pointedly at Duo. The longhaired man hopped down from the riser, strolling casually as though he didn't even notice every person in the room was watching. Several of the larger bodyguards had to twist in their chairs, too muscle-bound under their double-breasted suits to flexibly turn and look over their shoulder at his approach. Duo ignored them, and walked the thirty feet to Alan's seat. Bending over, he whispered in Alan's ear. 

"Resetting the system," Duo said softly. Heero could hear it faintly over the mike system. Duo waited until Alan nodded, and then returned to his spot. 

Alan chuckled, and waved away the other representatives' worried looks. "It's the system," he said, ad-libbing easily. "The doors are locked through our server, and they're randomly reset once a day as the system backs up. It's perfectly normal." 

There was a pause, and the South American representative laughed. "Computers will be the death of us," Louise cracked, and the tension was past. 

Heero shifted in place, against the wall, his mind returning to the earlier problem. He could kill everyone in the room. But that wouldn't solve the problem, something whispered deep down inside him, and Heero paused to reflect on that. Every person here, including himself, could be easily replaced, and would be, and the dance would start over. The point of the mission wasn't to destroy the syndicates. It was to remove the link between the President and the syndicates, and thus between the syndicates and the Preventers. 

The way the system was set up, Heero reminded himself, the Preventers were reliant on the money that rolled in from non-governmental sources. The regions in the Interstellar Earth Sphere Union had not set aside funds for the Preventers, preferring to let it be funded by outside interests in the hopes that this would keep the Preventers free of political interests. That same design, however, was the sole reason the Preventers' work was now so easily diluted. To break that cycle not only would they have to remove the President, but also the mechanism that tied him to the syndicates. If they didn't restructure the entire system funding the Preventers, the syndicates would simply look to the next President to pick up where the last left off. 

And with the amount of money each regional syndicate was naming, there was little chance that a civil employee like the Council President could pass up such offers. Heero wondered if he could, either, if that much money was involved. He wasn't sure he could even comprehend the amount the Russian representative had named, or even just the total amount allotted by the Asian representatives. 

So President Haune has to be implicated beyond a shadow of a doubt, Heero realized. The true mission isn't to destroy the syndicate, but to free the Preventers. 

His gaze fell on Relena, who was listening to the North American representative. The young woman's expression was pleasant, and open, but her blue eyes were steely, and the fingers of her right hand were caressing the lip of her empty teacup. Heero frowned slightly, and wondered if he was being taken in by the act along with everyone else. The problem was that he couldn't figure out why Relena would offer Trowa to the South European Alliance. He sensed there was a reason for the move ― everything she'd ever done had a specific reason ― but he couldn't see it from where he stood. 

"Wake up..." The voice was a breath, barely a whisper. 

Belatedly Heero realized the topic had shifted, and Mikhel, the florid Russian representative, was speaking. Heero glanced over at Duo, who closed his eyes slowly, then opened them again. Heero frowned and turned his attention back to the meeting. 

"We've followed the lead of L2 for twenty years now," Sean was saying. "I see no reason why we should alter that strategy now." 

"The colonies are reliant on the Earth regions," Vincent replied hotly. His bald pate was flushed again as his irritation grew. 

"Our future is in space, not on some dust ball," Mark, the L3 representative, retorted. "L2 has led us well in the past, despite their occasional missteps." He shot a look at Alan, who smiled self-effacingly. 

The conversation continued for several more minutes, with each representative jumping in with comments at various points. Heero listened closely, finally comprehending that they were debating, in a roundabout way, the selection of a leader for their council. President Haune was quiet, but smiled as some people spoke, and nodded seriously at other comments. It was obvious the President stood to gain or lose little based on who was in charge of the syndicates. His position, as the link to the Preventers, was assured. 

It soon became apparent to Heero that the majority of the representatives were beginning to agree on L2 taking the lead role in the syndicate alliances. Although the South European representative had argued eloquently, it seemed that L2's ignorance of Trowa's real identity was not enough to counteract the vast sums of intelligence at the colony syndicate's disposal. There were too many other areas in which L2's network was clearly superior. 

"Relena..." came the half-whisper again. 

Heero glanced at Duo, who had begun to smile broadly, a cold expression that promised mayhem. Heero turned his gaze to Relena, startled to see her smiling as she shook her head in an exaggeratedly patient movement. The dark-haired man frowned, then started as there was a click in his ear and the line went dead. Heero glanced back at Duo, who raised one shoulder and dropped it in a subtle gesture: he didn't know either. Heero tapped the transponder with his elbow, only to find the system was dead on the hotel security line as well. His gut clenched, and he took a moment to force his body to relax. 

"Mr. Kessler," Relena said. Her hands were folded in front of her, and her entire body language was prim, but pleased. 

Behind her, Wufei glanced down at her, and then back at the attendees, his eyes sharp. The man's stance was unchanged, but Heero instantly recognized the sharp awareness thrumming through the other pilot's body. Wufei was bracing himself for battle. Heero glanced over at Duo, nonchalantly crossing his arms, with all five of his fingers showing as he placed his right hand over his left arm. Duo's eyes followed the gesture, glanced at Wufei, and back to Heero. The dark-haired man nodded. Duo's smile didn't change, but his eyes narrowed. 

"I have been instructed," Relena continued, "as speaking representative for the North European Alliance, that L2 has a history of progressive thinking. However, Mr. Fiori is right that the real balance of power lies in the hands of those who have knowledge." 

"Of course," Alan replied smoothly, with a humble nod of his head. "L2 holds power because it has the knowledge." 

"Are you sure?" Her voice was crisp. 

Alan's smile froze slightly, but he recovered quickly with a soft chuckle, leaning back in his chair casually. "What are you getting at, Miss Darlian?" 

"It seems there is a considerable amount of information the North European Alliance holds, that no one has mentioned yet." She smiled sweetly, and tapped the rim of her teacup. "And this is information that could be highly detrimental to your cause as potential leader." 

"What information might that be?" The copper-haired man's voice dropped its silky tone, becoming flat at the edges as Alan struggled to mask his irritation. 

"The fact that L2's security is swiss cheese," she replied smoothly. "Your tardy discovery of a second Gundam pilot in your ranks is not the first time you have had infiltrators walk past the doors of your syndicate. I know of another such example, but that makes two, and..." She shrugged, a delicate gesture that spoke volumes despite her gentle smile. 

"I know of no―" 

"I want to hear this," Louise said, cutting Alan off. The woman's blue-black hair brushed her shoulders as she turned her head to Relena. "What are you getting at?" 

"If you know something, tell us," Mark added. His gaunt form was tensed, and he turned towards Alan. Heero could clearly see the man's profile, glaring at the copper-haired representative from L2. 

Alan started to raise a hand, that indolent smile back on his face, when the L4 representative spoke up. 

"You steamrollered us," Michelle snapped. "I wouldn't mind seeing someone do it to you." 

The Russian representative barked a laugh at Michelle's comment, then cut it off and gave an apologetic half-bow to Relena. "Sorry, my dear, my humor gets away from me sometimes. Please, tell us." 

Relena smiled at Mikhel, and then paused for a moment. Heero couldn't help but be impressed with the skill she displayed at making sure she had everyone's undivided attention. 

"The team on which you discovered your Gundam pilot," she began, appearing to choose her words carefully, "is a team that was originally created as a Preventer investigation into interstellar gun smuggling." 

The room was silent, and several people glanced at Alan, who laughed. "If you mean the one I'm thinking of, that team was shut down early. The Preventers didn't find anything." 

"Do you even know precisely which team it was?" Relena's response was fired back with precision. She raised an eyebrow as Alan shifted a little in his seat. 

"Not off the top of my head," he said, and shrugged. "When President Haune alerted us, we told him to shut it down." 

"It wasn't shut down," came the immediate reply. The young woman smiled suddenly, a gracious expression, and she tilted her head at Alan, her eyes wide. "One of my priorities as representative is to discover where this breech of communication occurred." 

Alan dropped his charm long enough to scowl for a second. He stared pointedly at the President, who looked surprised. 

"President Haune?" Relena turned her blue eyes on the older man, her entire body displaying expectation. 

"I had them shut down," the President replied, and then shrugged. "Director Une refused." 

"And what happened then?" The young North European Alliance representative's voice was sweetly coaxing. 

"I...had a core of syndicate Preventers shut them down for me." President Haune looked calm, but his voice quavered slightly as the entire room of syndicate dignitaries trained their eyes on him. "These are trustworthy Preventers, handpicked from syndicate ranks. I've used them for other jobs, too. They always get it done." 

Heero struggled to keep his breathing steady, his attention focused totally on the President's words. 

"But you didn't tell us," Alan said, and his voice was icy. "We should have known. Which ship was it? Who was the leader?" 

"I don't recall the spy's name," President Haune replied, a defensive note creeping into his voice. "The ship had an unusual name...Something boy..." He paused, pursing his lips as he stared into space, then nodded. "Dirty Boy." 

"Dirty Boy," Alan repeated softly. 

"The ship was sabotaged by my men," President Haune continued, confidence returning to his voice as Relena smiled at him. "The project was shut down as a failure, and Director Une did not attempt another investigation." 

"But she did," Relena said softly, her voice cool, ignoring the President's stunned expression. "And that team not only followed on the heels of the first one, it used the original investigator as its reference." She paused, and folded her hands in front of her, leaning forward to emphasize her words. "Which means that due to the lack of communication, the L2 syndicate willingly accepted a new team based on its connection to a known infiltrator." She leaned back with a smile. "I'd say that's important to know." 

"Damn you," Alan hissed, glaring at the President. "You're supposed to keep us informed." The man ran a hand through his tousled hair, and canted his head at Relena. "I'd say this indicates a flaw in the President we selected, and not in L2's organization." 

"But L2 was the predominant voice in the selection of this President, wasn't it?" Relena's tone was casual. 

"She's right," Louise added, leaning over to jab a finger at Alan. "You argued for hours for Haune over Bremen." 

"Bremen had no vision," Mikhel retorted. "The man was a lazy slob who drank cheap vodka." 

"And the brand of vodka is always important," Mark said, laughing. Several others laughed as well, and Mikhel shrugged good-naturedly. 

"I have my priorities," the Russian representative was saying. 

"Miss Darlian," Alan said, when the room had quieted down. "This seems like a single incident, which cannot entirely be laid at the feet of L2. The President misjudged the situation, but that's not our fault, even if it has become our problem." He smiled, clearly certain the situation was under control. "And I assure you, we will make every effort to make sure it does not happen again." 

"It's too late for that," she replied softly, but slowly, measuring her words precisely. 

"What do you mean?" Alan smiled, returning her charm with equal measure. 

The other representatives' heads swiveled as they tried to take in the tension between the two figures at opposite ends of the conference tables. Heero pulled away from the wall to stand up straight, feet shoulder-width apart. His arms were crossed, and his chin down, as he watched the room from under his brows. 

"When you discovered what you believed was an infiltrator, in this second investigation...it was not news delivered by your own highly-touted network, was it." She shrugged, and tilted her head at the man, speaking as though to a child. "You weren't even aware that one of the planners for today's security was a Gundam pilot." 

"Filthy terrorist," Louise interrupted, shaking her head. "I still can't believe you didn't shoot him on sight." 

"Common criminals," Andrew, the L1 representative, murmured. His shock of bristly gray hair caught the overhead lights as the man shook his head. "Our colony was glad to wash its hands of any connection with those mass murderers." 

"They should've done the war crimes tribunals and put all five of them to death," Vincent muttered to Mark, who nodded. "We would've been satisfied with that, but nothing? They just let them walk." He snorted, a disgusted sound. 

Mikhel pressed his paunch up against the table, looking down the row at Alan. There was a dubious expression on the man's broad face. "I still can't believe L2 already had one on its payroll. Rabid dogs, trained for war. I'm surprised you didn't keep the second one, too." 

Alan shrugged, but frowned slightly as the blonde L4 representative answered Mikhel's comment. 

"They're not rabid dogs," Michelle retorted. "They're wild animals, and they'll turn on anyone who feeds them." 

Relena held up her hand, waiting until the room fell silent again. "My point is not to discuss the validity of the Gundam pilots' original missions nor their pedigree, but to clarify that L2 was ignorant to the point of allowing this pilot to assist in planning today's meeting. Furthermore, it was not L2, but the North European Alliance, who identified the man L2 has since locked away." 

Heero could see the L1 and L5 syndicate dignitaries blinking as they registered Relena's meaning. Both men immediately looked to their right, raising their eyebrows in obvious silent questions at the L2 representative. 

"Technically, this is true," Alan replied. "But I understand you met one or two of the Gundam pilots in your time, Relena. It's only fair that you would inform us of knowledge, just as we would for you." 

"I am not in this position to baby-sit you," she said mildly, but a reproving tone was lurking in her words. Relena waved a hand, dismissing Alan's startled expression. "It appears that my region contains the information, and L2, while good at using it, is not the font of knowledge it claims to be." 

Heero dragged his eyes off Relena long enough to notice Wufei's eyes dart back and forth between the doors, and then up to the clock. The Chinese bodyguard only looked once, but once was enough for Heero. Wufei and Relena were waiting on something. A movement across the room caught Heero's eye, and he glanced over at Duo, who was studying him closely. 

"L2 has long had the best intelligence," Sean pointed out. "This seems to be something that only you would know, and not something the syndicates could be expected to know." 

When Duo realized he had Heero's attention, he released his arms and let them fall to his sides. 

"But it's the syndicate's job to know everyone who works for them," Relena told the gentleman from the L5 syndicate. "At what point does a syndicate take responsibility for determining the true histories of its employees? This team was in place for eight months, I might add. And in all that time, the only question the L2 syndicate had was the man's whereabouts for two years after the Mariamaia incident." 

Duo's right hand, half-hidden from the room by his body, flickered in three quick gestures. Heero frowned, and Duo paused before repeating each gesture, a little slower. 

"How do you―" Alan's mouth was open, and he could only stare at the composed young woman sipping tea. 

_Girl._

"And not only that," Relena continued as if Alan had not spoken, "that two year gap was not enough to prompt the syndicate to suspend the employee, let alone the entire team that had vouched for this infiltrator. An entire team, let me remind you, that was vouched for on the word of another known infiltrator." She clicked her tongue softly against her teeth in a chiding sound. "Really, Alan, your security is swiss cheese." 

_Go._

"How do you know about..." 

_Long._

Heero glanced back at Relena, then at Duo. The man nodded, once, a subtle gesture, but made no other move. 

The L2 representative's question trailed off at the sight of Relena's beatific smile, but her blue eyes were sharp as she steadily gazed at each representative in turn. She sipped her tea again, nonchalantly, then placed the teacup back down as she graced Alan with another smile. 

"Because it's my job to know these things," she told him calmly. "As it should also be yours." 

The room was quiet, and Mikhel nodded his head as he stared at the papers in front of him. Louise, her back to Heero, seemed to be agreeing as well. Slowly most of the attendees appeared to give their silent concurrence by gesture or expression. 

Girl: Relena? Go. Long. Heero scowled. It had been five years since he'd used or seen the silent signals they'd made up when sharing missions. Go. Long. What the hell does that mean, he wondered, and studied Relena some more. She was pouring a fresh cup of tea from the decanter. When she set the carafe neatly back on its holder, Heero noted the set of her chin, and recognized the tiny sign that indicated her nervousness. He'd know it anywhere; it was the look she'd had just before they kissed, that first and only time. Then it dawned on him what Duo meant. 

Relena was stalling. 

Alan snorted. "I've been doing this for far longer than you, young lady. Nearly all of us have, for that matter. You can't presume to walk in here and tell us how to do our jobs." 

"I'm not telling you how to do anything," Relena said, and shrugged, her hands out, palms up. "I'm simply pointing out that you didn't do your job. How you fix that is entirely up to you." 

"And how do you suggest we fix things?" came the sarcastic reply. 

"First, pay attention." Relena stood up. Wufei held her chair away and she nodded as she walked slowly around the tables, nodding politely to the seated bodyguards as she made her way to the podium. "The North European Alliance, for instance, knows the whereabouts of every Gundam pilot." 

"No one's been able to find out that information, for five years," Anil, the South Asian representative, burst out. His eyes were wide as he stared at the young woman. "How can the North European Alliance know? How did you find out?" 

"Because we're willing to use whatever method to get the information we need," Relena said with a smile. "We don't take our employees' word for it when they hand us a line." She paused, seeming to study her fingernails, before she held up her right hand, the fingers splayed wide. "Pilot 05 is on my personal payroll in the syndicate." 

There were several muttered comments, but none audible. Relena smiled again, a cold expression, as she folded down her thumb to display four outstretched fingers. 

"Pilot 04...well, I'm sure the L2 syndicate's reliable sources have already informed you of his status." She folded down another finger. "Pilot 03 is being held in this hotel, awaiting transfer to the South European Alliance's care." Relena glanced at her hand, and folded down her ring finger. "Pilot 02 is an L2 lapdog, unwilling or unable to do anything but remain on his own colony." 

She didn't glance at Duo, but Heero did, and noticed Duo's quick smile flash at Relena's description. The chilling look in the unsmiling eyes sent a shiver down Heero's back, and he turned back to stare at Relena. Every soldier's instinct he had was warning him, and he instinctively prepared himself with a deep breath, his arms lax, his hands unclenched. 

Relena studied the room for a minute, and then folded down her ring finger, leaving only her index finger pointing up. "And, Mr. Kessler of the L2 syndicate, the person you thought was an infiltrator was not." She swung her hand to point at Alan. "Your questionable team member, had you taken the time to truly investigate his past, would have revealed himself to be someone cleaving to an old wartime colleague. You would have discovered that Pilot 03 had no other home, and had genuinely hoped to create one in the only organization that might still use his few talents." 

Heero braced himself. 

The young woman smiled again. "The true infiltrator was not the man you took, Alan. It was that man over there." She swung her arm, sweeping past the astonished representatives' gazes, and her hand came to rest with her forefinger pointing directly at Heero. "I give you Pilot 01." 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamian. I do, however, own a set of floppy disks. I do not mean the firmies everyone uses now, that resemble old Mac firmies. I mean the REAL floppy disks. Found them yesterday. They have old college papers on them. Of course, I know absolutely no one who still has a drive that size... 

This chapter has another thank-you to the war room for letting me tantalize them with Relena's Coup, specifically CleverYoungThief, Arithkenshin, and Casey Valhalla, the last of whom listened and suggested patiently as I ranted about the quote selection for this chapter. Thanks, you evil three. 

Dyna: Now you see why killing them all really isn't an option. There are more delicate maneuvers required for this operation...assuming, of course, that everyone in the operating room has the patient's best interests at heart. So to speak. 

Nlp: Well, see, there's more going on than Heero knows about...but he's a smart kid. He's starting to figure some of it. Well, some. I think Trowa sees Jeet as something to protect, which is only emphasized by the way the younger man has pretty much shed his original bravado in the face of seeing what the three pilots are really like, what they can take, and what they'll do. Oh, gracious, sorry about the cliffhanger. (Well, not really, but I'll pretend if it makes you feel better.) Remember to breathe. 

Greengirlblue: Trowa will show up next chapter, I promise. And I'm very glad you're enjoying the story – I'm still a little in shock that it took this long, and turned out to be this complex. But I figure, if I am still interested in telling it, that's some sort of a good sign, right? At least one of us isn't bored. And yes, 'brutal' does seem to be the keyword for this story, hunh. 

DK-Adeena: Bwahaha! Welcome to my den of Drums addicts. As you may have noticed, everyone is currently recovering from the last chapter, and probably wheezing desperately as they try to get air. What's next? Hehehe. Well, it might not be pretty. But then, I figure the least I could do was not have Relena wear pink. So she's wearing crimson. I thought it was appropriate... 

I got inspired last night, and had this one out in record time...so I know that means a lot of people have barely had a time to react, let alone read it. But to those folks who jumped on it and wrote me in agonies about Trowa, I appreciate the kind words, and I'm changing my name and residence so you can't track me down and kill me after the next chapter. Woot! Anyway, many thanks and aww, shucks to Koyote, Morgan, Tyr, CZ, Sevenall, Ashkara, Stacy, RurouniTriv and Okaasan, who seems to have spoken for many when she wrote: "Now I'm worried that [Trowa] might actually be suicidal, or close to it, and added with the fact that the L3 syndicate is out for his blood...well, we may end up with Trowa joining Quatre. Duo's the one who has been so casual about the whole thing that, well, let's just say that Trowa's promise to rip out his ribcage was met with cheering by me." 

Hmm, seems many folks were ready to pound Duo, and I'm still a little surprised by the 'save Jeet!' campaign. Wow...We're nearly at the end! ;D 


	47. except the rolling ocean

**03 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

And the lightening strikes and the wind cuts cold  
Through the sailor's bones down to the sailor's soul  
Til there's nothing left that he can hold  
except the rolling ocean  
― Dougie Maclean 

In the space of a single heartbeat, Heero made several decisions. 

One. 

Relena must survive. No matter where she stood now, he had gone through too much to let her be killed in crossfire. 

Two. 

Duo had to stay out of it. The syndicate believed Duo to be their puppet. Regardless of the man's true sympathies, Duo had to make it out in one piece. 

Three. 

There were seventeen representatives and six assistants, most of whom were unarmed. Whatever their personal histories, he'd killed enough people on this mission. He wasn't going to carry more lives on his shoulders if he had say in the matter. 

Four. 

If he pulled his gun, the room would descend into a bloodbath instantly. The bodyguards were trained, too, and would respond to the escalated threat of a gun the same way he would, by pulling their own. 

Five. 

There were seventeen bodyguards, all armed with a variety of handguns, and probably a few knives. Their combined firepower would rip him to shreds, now that they were registering him as a threat. 

Six. 

Heero knew his real strength lay in hand-to-hand combat, even given the fact that his left shoulder was not entirely healed. If he remained visibly unarmed, he'd have a better chance of fighting his way past, if he had to. 

Seven... 

The heartbeat was past. 

* * *

Heero stepped forward as Relena finished speaking, and the bodyguards came to their feet, watching his movements warily. He walked with his eyes focused on nothing in particular, prepared for an attack from any side. He stepped down from the riser, dropping the two feet easily and coming instantly upright, his weight balanced on the balls of his feet. 

Several of the bodyguards stepped forward, placing themselves between Relena and the ex-Gundam pilot. Heero was absently pleased to see that she would be protected. 

"I claim this man for the North European Alliance," Relena's calm voice announced, as though she'd just commented on the weather. Heero glared at her, but she merely waved a graceful hand in his direction. "Could several of you please..." 

In that instant, three men stepped forward. Heero drove his fist into the first man's stomach and instantly dropped, ducking the second one's punch. Swinging in a low circle, he spun to miss the third's strike, kicking out with a foot and slamming the second man in the side of his knee. Coming back upright, Heero shoved the heel of his hand against the third man's nose. 

Stepping back, he ignored the blood now coating his right hand, and waited for the next set of bodyguards to make an attempt. The first three pulled back, and another three stepped forward. He smirked; the bodyguards weren't used to fighting in tandem, and any more than three would get in each other's way. 

Then a chair hit him across the back. 

Heero fell forward, catching himself in time to duck just as one man's swing clipped him on the cheek. Turning, he caught the second man by the arm, evading the punch and sending the second man flying into the third. Blocking several quick strikes, he retaliated with punches and low kicks. Sensing a threat behind him, he spun to find himself facing Wufei. 

The Chinese man leveled him with a lightening-fast knife-hand blow on his right shoulder. There was a pop, and Heero fell to his knees, pain flooding his system. His right arm was dislocated. He grunted and struggled to his feet, only to be caught by the collar. His right arm dangled uselessly, but he clawed at Wufei's arm with his left hand, his eyes wide. 

"Enough," Wufei hissed, shaking Heero just a little. 

The Altron pilot bared his teeth and spun Heero with a smooth shove. A hand reached into the back of Heero's pants and yanked the Ruger from its holster. His arms were instantly taken by two of the larger bodyguards, and he choked back a groan as his right arm was cruelly twisted behind his back. Stumbling forward, he gritted his teeth as he was brought up sharp, only a foot away from Relena. 

Her sky-blue eyes drilled into his for a long minute. Many of the syndicate dignitaries were on their feet, and a few were still half out of their chairs, frozen at the sight. Heero could barely make out Duo, by the wall, his arms crossed, looking away. Heero exhaled sharply and met Relena's stare evenly, with his chin up. 

She chuckled, canting her head as she studied him. "I remember you," she said, softly. "You were the one who came to the Libra to rescue me." The young woman reached out as if to brush the dark brown hair away from his eyes, and Heero jerked his head back, away from her touch, still glaring. She shrugged. "You look so different when I can finally see you without that airlock suit in the way." 

Heero caught himself before he blinked. She knew exactly what he looked like. He kept the glower on his face, his mind moving rapidly. He stifled a groan at the pain shooting through his body, every time he shifted against the hands holding his arms. 

"I suggest you restrain him, gentleman," she ordered. 

Behind him, Heero could hear a clinking sound, and felt the old familiar weight of OZ-style handcuffs. They clasped his forearms from elbow to wrist, pinning his arms behind him, fingers clasping elbows. He hissed as his right shoulder screamed against the tension. 

"Mr. Kessler, you said you have the other Gundam pilot somewhere?" 

"You can't suggest trading!" Vincent's thick Italian voice came from somewhere on Heero's right, an indignant shout. 

Relena smiled and shook her head. "I wouldn't deprive you, Mr. Fiori. But I believe there may be those among the Asian syndicate who would donate more to our joint purpose, for a chance to retaliate for the loss of their kin on Hawaii." 

Several voices murmured in agreement. Heero curled his lip, unwilling to show more than a derisive reaction. Relena caught the look and returned it with a wide-eyed innocent expression. One of the bodyguards shoved Heero sideways, and he nearly fell, catching himself in time. He threw a glare over his shoulder, ignoring the deep throbbing as the neck muscles pulled around his dislocated shoulder. 

"Just one thing," Relena said, as the conference room doors burst open. Hilde and Enny froze in the doorway, shoved to the side as Joe and Tiny pushed past them. The men on either side of Heero didn't move, waiting to see what the young woman wanted. 

She bent her head, pulling her ponytail to the side as she reached up to unclasp something from around her neck. When she raised her head again, Heero could see she was pulling a pendant out from under her blouse. She held it up for everyone to see. It was a twisted hunk of metal, a little longer than her thumbprint, a quarter-inch thick. Heero could see a bit of blue paint still clinging to the surface. 

"This is a piece of the Libra," Relena announced. "This was what you fought against, and what you conquered. Consider this my belated thanks. What we have now, and where we are, is all due to you." 

She delivered the last line gently, almost intimately, but her expression was amused. Stepping forward, she ignored Heero's attempt to twist his head away. One of the men squeezed his shoulder and he slumped against the pain. It was enough time for Relena to drop the necklace over his head. Pulling at his collar, she dropped the pendant inside his shirt. The metal was warm from her skin, and he growled, trying to back away. 

Relena patted at his chest, where the pendant lay, then smiled triumphantly. "Keep him in relatively one piece," she instructed. "He's not worth much if he's broken. Mr. Kessler?" She asked, turning. 

The copper-haired man gave her a small mocking bow, and then smiled, shaking his head. "I suppose this is the reason Mr. Thepot sent you as his representative," he said. "I was wrong to have underestimated you." 

"All is forgiven. Place this man with your pilot, and we'll deal with them both later." Relena smiled distantly to the two men holding Heero, and strode back to her seat at the head of the table. 

Heero twisted his head to watch her go, his teeth bared in a snarl. A hand caught his chin and jerked his eyes back around. 

"She's out of your league," Alan said, his charming smile back in place. "She's out of all our leagues." The copper-haired man snapped his fingers. "Tiny, Joe. Take this man to join Mr. Barlow." 

Heero was unceremoniously pushed forward again. Two new sets of hands took him by his elbows, shoving him across the room, passing Hilde's and Enny's stunned expressions that quickly hardened into business-like masks. The two women didn't look him in the eye, but followed him out, shutting the door behind them. 

"Where you taking him, Joe?" Enny's voice came from behind Heero, and he was halted for a moment as Joe turned to face the woman. 

"Somewhere safe," Joe replied, grinning. "I'm sure they'll make great company." He yanked at Heero's right arm, and the Wing Zero pilot gritted his teeth as he went in the direction he was led. 

"I don't think we should put them together," Tiny said under his breath. "We had plenty trouble the last time we checked on that other guy. One Gundam pilot per room is bad enough, don't you think?" 

"It's not like the hotel is full of holding cells," Joe replied sharply. "My day has done nothing but sucked, so far." 

"You're still cranky about those kids?" Tiny's voice rumbled with a stifled laugh. 

"Shut up. You try sitting security at the bar for two hours while stupid kids keep playing some computer game the whole time. Nothing but explosions and random pre-recorded shouts, with that damned music over and over again. Deet-deet-deet-dee-dum-dum," he drawled, mimicking a video game's theme music. "And worst part was, I couldn't fuckin' drink. On duty," he muttered, punctuating the last words with a shove to Heero's back. 

The two fell silent, guiding Heero down the hall to the staff elevator. Swiping their pass cards, the elevator doors opened and Heero was shoved inside. A few minutes later the elevator settled on the hotel's bottom floor, opening to reveal the kitchen storage areas. 

Heero ran through the hotel's map in his head, recognizing that they were under the left wing of the building, near the kitchen's designated loading dock, cold rooms, and storage areas. His rubber boot heels muffled his steps on the concrete floor, but the two men holding him had dress shoes. Their heels clicked, echoing off the walls and floors until it sounded like sixteen men were escorting him. He was halted abruptly outside a metal door. 

Tiny held him while Joe punched a code, and the door popped open with a gentle hiss. Then Joe turned, his red hair bright in the fluorescent lights, and he grinned widely as he punched Heero in the stomach, hard. 

Heero doubled over, coughing, and the blow was immediately followed by an uppercut to his forehead, throwing him backwards. The bones in his arm grated against the ball joint, and he fell sideways, unable to focus long enough to get his breath. A second blow came to his ribs, and then a kick to the side of his leg, the dress shoes sliding down his pants, scraping against his shin. 

Tiny barked something to Joe, who nodded. As Heero was turned to face the darkness of the storage room, the redhead threw one more strong punch to Heero's kidneys. He choked as his vision went dark from the pain, and he stumbled forward, falling to his knees a few feet past the threshold. 

The door slammed behind him. 

Heero remained where he was, kneeling, and slowly leaned forward until his forehead was against the cool concrete floor. Gasping, he let himself fall onto his left side, groaning slightly as the action made his right shoulder shift. Curling up into a fetal position, Heero closed his eyes, letting his awareness slide away. 

* * *

He was awoken by a gentle touch on his head, long fingers running through his hair, and ghosting down his arm. The touch disappeared when Heero hissed. A soft baritone whisper greeted his ears. 

"Heero?" 

Trowa, Heero's mind supplied. He coughed, trying to roll onto his knees so he could sit up. The motion made his shoulder throb, and he groaned softly, unwilling to force himself to move. 

"Status," came a soft command. 

"Right arm dislocated," Heero said, grunting as he tried again to sit up. Gasping at the pain reawakening along with his senses, he came up on his knees. "Blow to the kidney, bruised stomach and ribs, scraped shin, cut to the forehead, minor concussion." 

"What happened?" 

"Relena announced I was the infiltrator, not you." Heero spat, the taste of blood sour in his mouth. He instinctively looked around, trying to focus on something in the nearly pitch-black room. Blinking several times, he realized a thin slice of light was creeping under the steel storage room door. 

"She what?" Trowa's voice was disbelieving. "She's with the syndicate?" 

"That's what it looks like. Wufei, too." Heero grunted, pulling his legs out from under him and sliding backwards until the metal handcuffs clicked against the concrete wall. Sighing, he stretched his legs out and let his head drop. 

"The three of them..." Trowa's voice came closer, until a warm body was alongside Heero's left side. The dark-haired man could make out the vague shape of the taller pilot sitting with his knees bent up, his arms stretched out, and elbows on his kneecaps. Trowa sighed. "If those two are with the syndicate, we're fucked." 

"I think we're fucked, either way," Heero replied bluntly. "No one knows where we are, except Joe, Tiny, Tariq, and Alan. Unless someone else was in the party that brought you down here?" 

"Just those two," Trowa said, but his next words were colored with a smile. "And two others that probably won't be talking much for awhile." 

"Tiny said something about having trouble with you. You're not restrained, are you." 

"Nope. I came peacefully. Unlike you, it looks like. Besides, I wasn't the one with the problem when they paid a visit." Trowa's shrug brushed Heero lightly. "Tiny brought two guys down for their idea of fun. Broke one's arm, and the guy was out. Heard a few cracks on some of the body punches I gave the other guy." The Heavyarms pilot chuckled softly. "All that effort, and turns out the guy had a glass jaw. Got him once in the face and he was down for the count." 

"Hn." Heero grinned, despite himself. "What happened?" 

"Tiny came up behind me with a taser, got me in the kidneys." 

There was a pause, and Heero shifted, unable to find a position that didn't cause something to ache horribly. He closed his eyes, the attempts to focus on darkness starting to give him a headache as well. 

"Status," he said. 

"Bruised ribs, contusion, possible concussion, cuts to my shoulder, cheek, split lip, and twisted wrist." 

Heero grunted, then started to laugh. Beside him, Trowa turned. The dark-haired man could almost feel the confusion from the taller pilot, and it only made him laugh harder, despite the complaints from his bruised diaphragm. 

"What?" Trowa finally said, bewilderment fighting annoyance. 

"We're too old for this." 

Trowa laughed out loud, a lively sound. He quieted as he settled back against the wall. "That crap I told Duo about not wanting to be retired so young? I take it back," he said, bemused. "I think I'd rather be in class right now, trying to stay awake while some old bastard drones on about animal euthanasia." 

"I'm just telling myself this is just like being in the dark room again," Heero replied dryly. "If I could develop negatives with a dislocated shoulder and my hands behind my back, that is." 

"You're a professional, right? This should be a piece of cake for you." 

"Yeah." Heero laughed again, a harsh sound that devolved into coughing. Trowa waited as he recovered, and Heero leaned back again with a sigh in his voice. "Do me a favor?" 

"Sorry, I'm all out of whiskey at the moment." 

"Shut up." Heero's short laugh choked with another cough. "Take this necklace off me." 

"What?" 

"It's a necklace. I want it off." 

Hesitant fingers brushed Heero's shoulder, and there was a rustle as Trowa turned to face him. Fingertips glided up to Heero's neck, seeking the thin metal chain, and then the necklace was being dragged over his head. 

"Now throw it away," Heero ordered. "I don't want that thing anywhere near me." 

There was a long silence, and Heero realized he hadn't heard the clink of metal hitting concrete. 

"What are you waiting for?" His voice was an irritated hiss. 

"Where did you get this..." Trowa's question trailed off in an astounded breath. 

"Relena gave it to me," Heero said bitterly. "She said some crap about everything being thanks to me. It's a piece of the Libra." 

Trowa laughed softly. "No, it's not. It's a piece of Heavyarms." 

"Did you say..." Heero hardly dared breathe. 

"Heavyarms. I gave it to Relena...before I left on this mission." Trowa's voice was positively bubbling with delight. "It's not just a piece of Heavyarms, either. It was a request that she'd look after..." He paused, and Heero could hear him swallow. When Trowa spoke again, he was subdued. "That she'd look after...everyone I left behind. And there's a transmitter inside it, so whomever is being her guard can always find her." 

"A transmitter?" Heero's head came up sharply, and he gasped as the action made his shoulder throb deeper. "Fuck. Damn shoulder." 

"What exactly did she say?" Trowa's tone was suddenly serious. "Do you remember?" 

"She said..." Heero focused on the exact phrase. "This was what you fought against, and what you conquered. Consider this my belated thanks. What we have now, and where we are, is all due to you." 

"Cryptic," Trowa replied wryly. 

"We were surrounded by syndicate people, so if she's still on our side, she wasn't going to say it out loud," Heero told the other man. "But if she is on our side, then a lot of it makes sense." 

"What happened?" 

Slowly, Heero filled Trowa in on the meeting: Relena's nervousness, Duo's observation that she was stalling, and the skill with which she'd led the syndicate representatives into supporting her claim for power over Alan's. He concluded with the note that it was Wufei who'd dislocated his arm. 

"Wufei's good enough to know when any of us are favoring," Trowa observed. "If they haven't gone over, I can see him doing that to shut you down with minimal damage. Your left arm isn't strong enough yet, and without your right arm..." 

Heero grunted. "Bastard. Didn't save me too much, did it." 

"What, would you rather be dead?" 

The question startled Heero, and he took a moment to ponder the question seriously before answering. "No...Duo's still alive." 

"Ah..." 

"You?" 

"I don't know..." Trowa was quiet for a minute, before he whispered, "Part of me won't believe it happened, and part of me refuses...because I was the one who did it..." 

The room was silent for a little longer, and Heero could hear the clink of metal running against metal. He could barely make out Trowa's movement, hands moving restlessly as he ran the necklace from one hand to the other. 

Heero switched topics. "So they follow that signal," Heero said, "and they find us. I don't get why she named me, though." 

"No one knows where I am," Trowa pointed out. "And you said she was stalling. Wondering what she was waiting for." 

Heero wondered as well, reviewing the meeting in his head. Relena had maneuvered the conversations around a number of different points before her final grandstanding act. 

"There's a lot going on I don't know," he finally admitted. "The computer system started going haywire just before lunch, and a half-hour before the break, the door system unlocked and relocked. Then ten minutes after that, the comm went dead." 

"Strange," Trowa murmured. "Any hope it's the good guys?" 

"I doubt it," Heero answered. "Sometimes systems crash without much reason." 

"And other times, it's because a Gundam pilot's involved." 

"But only during wartime," Heero shot back. He sighed, and the moment passed as his mind jumped to another topic. "There's one thing I can't figure out. Why were Preventers at a conference for L4 business development?" 

"You said President Haune is in charge of keeping the Preventers out of syndicate business, right? And L4 was one of the last holdouts," Trowa said. "Maybe the President was double-crossing the syndicate." 

"If they were there for security, they did a lousy job of it," Heero muttered. 

"Maybe they were there to do our jobs, if we couldn't," Trowa mused. "But if Quatre...recognized them, they had to play the role of Preventer, not assassin." 

"I have no idea," Heero admitted, wriggling his fingers to get feeling back. The sleepy feeling in his elbows started to fade, turning into a stinging tingle that distracted him for a moment. "Were you here all night? This concrete is killing my ass." 

Trowa chuckled softly. "Actually, no. I spent the night locked in a staff overnight room. Then they moved me here in the morning, after breakfast. It was getting boring until you came along to liven things up." 

"How long since I got here? Any idea?" A light flashed on, and Heero blinked. Then the light was gone, and he scowled. "You had a watch on?" 

"It hardly qualifies as a weapon," Trowa replied amiably. 

"We're Gundam pilots." Heero snorted. "A can-opener could be a lethal weapon in our hands." 

"I'm flattered you think so, but I don't have any can-openers with me, either. Anyway, you arrived at quarter to four, standard time. It's been twenty-five minutes." 

"Break should be over by now." 

"Yeah. Wonder if Hilde and Enny are okay." Trowa sighed. "Jeet...how is he doing?" 

"Having too much fun," Heero said, his tone mildly disapproving. "I think he just liked getting on the line so he could say 'roger' and 'over and out'. Kid thinks we're just playing cowboys." 

"He's young. He wasn't cut out for this." 

Heero knew what Trowa meant, and neither needed to say it. They were raised and trained, nearly from infancy, for this life. The awareness was tinged with sadness, and the dark-haired man registered a small touch of envy for Jeet that he quickly squashed. Any naïveté Jeet once had, Heero thought, is gone now, between the L2 streets and the blood on our hands... 

"So what happens next?" Trowa exhaled slowly, and sat up. "Times like these, I wish I had Duo's skill at picking locks. Your arms can't be comfortable." 

"I'd rather have your skill at dispensing drugs. I guess if the Preventers break down that door, then we know Relena and Wufei were playing everyone, including me. If some fat Italian shows up and hauls you out of here, then we know they're not on our side." 

"I see you're going with the pragmatic approach." 

"I never was one for daydreaming about the future. We need Duo for that." Thinking of the longhaired man, Heero felt something in his chest clench. Almost thirty minutes since he'd been hauled out of the meeting, and he had no idea where Duo was, or if the other man was okay. 

What if the other syndicate leaders decided Duo should also bear the burden of a region's retribution? Fear trickled through his system at the notion. L2 had been losing points quickly. They might try to make up for it with another trade and give up their last Gundam pilot. 

"What's wrong?" 

Trowa's quiet rumble seemed unexpectedly close to Heero's ear, and he started. The abrupt ripple in his muscles made the pain shoot through his chest. Heero gritted his teeth, focusing on pushing the aching twinges to the back of his awareness. 

He was still trying to formulate a response when the steel door swung open with a clang. Heero blinked against the light, ducking his head as his eyes adjusted. Heavy footsteps charged into the room, passing him, and there was a grunt as Trowa was yanked to his feet. A crackling sound filled the air, and Heero could see the arc of blue electricity. When both stopped, Heero looked up to see Trowa hunched over, panting desperately as he was shoved forwards. 

"Come on, Louie," a voice hollered. "You gonna do it, do it now." Heero realized it was Joe, and looked up to see the man standing in the doorway. Trowa was being pushed out the door, and Heero struggled to his feet. Joe glanced in, and shook his head, a wild grin on his face. "Don't worry, you're next." 

"Shit," Tiny's voice called from the hallway. "There's no way you'll get him out of here." 

"Shut up and help me carry him," Louie retorted. "Those other guys weren't supposed to work him over that good." 

"You put a taser on him for five seconds, what do you expect," Joe barked. "No way you'll get him out. Just do it and let's get out of here. Then you tell your dad it's done and shut up already." 

They'd left the door open. Heero forced his heartbeat and respiration to slow down, then clambered to his feet, stumbling to the doorjamb. There was another burst of taser crackling, followed by the loud thump of a body hitting the floor. Heero cautiously poked his head around the corner. With his arms behind his back he had limited resources, but he could still kick, he reminded himself. 

What he saw sent cold dread straight down his spine. 

Trowa was kneeling on the floor. He was facing the kitchen loading dock doors, and his hands were on his thighs as he leaned over, shaking from the repeated taser bursts. Louie was standing just past the door, his back to Heero, and his arm was outstretched. There was a gun in his hand, and it was trained on the back of Trowa's head. 

Heero gathered his strength, coiling the last of his energy into his legs. Before he could move, the elevator bell rang. Heero paused, startled. 

A single gunshot echoed down the hallway. 

Blood exploded from Louie's shoulder. The report thundered in the hallway, the sound bouncing from every surface. The man spun, firing randomly as he stumbled sideways, falling in a heap opposite the storage room door. 

Three more shots rang out. 

Joe went down, clutching his thigh. Tiny immediately formed a second bloody pile, a gun still clutched in his hand. He'd gotten off one shot before going down. 

Heero pulled back at the sound of footsteps pounding down the hallway. They echoed, rattling in the concrete spaces until the sound deafened Trowa's panting. He watched, uncertain, as Trowa climbed to his feet, turning around to face the latest challenge. 

Trowa's face went completely white. The overhead lights turned the drying blood on his forehead a dark brown, and the man's green eyes seemed to glow against his skin's sudden pallor. Heero was about to launch himself forward, ready to somehow catch Trowa, even with bound arms. 

But he was stopped by a single whisper from the Heavyarms pilot. 

"Quatre?" 

* * *

In case you're wondering...I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamian. I do, however, own an Irving Berlin 78" record. Yup, and feels like china in the hand. It's not vinyl, it's something else. No cover, just the record...and someday it'll even have a frame for it. I'm bad at archiving. Bad me. 

To clarify: the War Room, as we call it, carries no blame for the plot, twists, or turns, except in a few points here and there. They're just around when I need to holler statements like, "Damn Relena! Why can't she behave!" and "Duo is being a butthead!" and "Gyah, I need a drink!" Hehe. But I'm grateful for their listening skills, even if they hate me for giving them two and three paragraph snippets of the story just to tantalize them... 

NeNa: Hissyfits not necessary...Here's more. Happy? ;D 

Mashiro Karasu: Well, now you know. She's not bad, she's just written that way! 

Jadeduo: Sit down, sweetheart. It's going to be O-K-A-Y. Well, mostly. The next chapter's going to be a rough one, so brace yourself. 

Shinimegami82: think about what might have caused those later parts in your story, and work backwards – write the scenes that lead to those later scenes. 

Nihyaku: I worked hard to make sure the clues were all there...and now, hopefully, you're starting to see some of the rest of the story, coming together. I hope... 

Stacey: Thanks for the review, then! It makes my day, at least. Yeah, Heero's still confused...hopefully I can explain it all in the next chapter – or two, if it takes that long. 

SilverCaladan: If I wrote the expected, you'd be bored by now. Relena's got a few tricks of her own...just wait 'til you hear her explanation! 

Kasifya: Define 'happy ending'...but I promise, I'm trying. Duo doesn't always behave. ;D 

Bella: Ah...I'd answer your questions, but some of them have already been answered in this chapter. The rest are coming soon! 

And thanks to all those who wrote me on elists and directly: Rosemary, Okaasan, Morgan, Tyr, Koyote, Jena, Cricket, Arithkenshin, Floredai, RurouniTriv, Casey Valhalla, RadicalThief, and KittyChou. Almost done! 


	48. luminous descent of the bright star

**03 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

By the time the luminous descent of the bright star unfolds  
And tablets of strange love are shattered and bruised...  
By the time you make up your mind, if you ever do  
I'll hear the drums of heaven too  
― Rob Hirst 

Heero hung back as a man brushed past him to catch Trowa, lowering the stunned man to the floor. Heero could only stare, registering Quatre's broad back and sweat-matted blond hair. Bewildered, Heero moved away from the threshold, into the hallway. He leaned against the wall and slowly slunk back down. 

"Trowa, Trowa, come on," Quatre was whispering insistently. The gun was still in his right hand, and he shoved it back in his shoulder holster. Immediately his hand was returned to the taller man's shoulder, and he shook the man gently. "Trowa...it's me. Please, look at me." 

Shocked green eyes fluttered open, and immediately closed again with a frown. 

"Trowa, I'm okay, it's okay, it's all over now," Quatre murmured. "Can you stand? We need to get you to a doctor." 

The elevator dinged again, and Heero could hear racing footsteps behind him. He didn't look, trusting that if Quatre wasn't reacting, the situation was under control. Heero registered the frantic pounding of his heart, and the way his entire body was shaking, but he made no effort to fight it. He could only stare, drinking in the sight of the other pilot, alive, and apparently in one piece. 

Someone crouched down next to him, and the dark-haired man turned to see Wufei. The man's hair had come out of his ponytail, and dark strands were plastered to his face, hanging down to his chest. There was a bloody bandage on his upper arm, and his eyes were studying Heero with the precision of an experienced soldier. 

"Sorry I hit you so hard," Wufei said quietly. "I had to make it look believable." 

"It was believable alright," Heero muttered, and coughed, his chest aching from the reflex. "He's alive," he whispered. His eyes went back to where Trowa was staring helplessly at Quatre. The Sandrock pilot was running light fingers over Trowa's head and upper body, trying to ascertain injuries. 

"I'll be right back. I think one of these guys has keys," Wufei said. 

Heero nodded, closing his eyes. He leaned his head against the wall, embracing the throbbing pain coursing through his body. It meant he was alive, that he wasn't dead and dreaming. He felt Wufei's returning touch on his arms, heard a clinking sound, and the cuffs were off. The clatter as they hit the ground echoed painfully in his ears. A second later, Wufei had grabbed his arm, efficiently yanking and twisting it. The joint popped back into place with a shot of red-hot pain, and Heero choked the cry in his throat. 

Someone groaned nearby, and Heero looked up to see Louie sitting up, his gun in his hand. The man muttered something, and raised his gun. Heero blinked, but Quatre's gun was already out, trained on the other man. 

A heartbeat passed. Louie stared at Quatre, who was crouched in front of Trowa. He was blocking the Italian operative's shot. Louie's gun wobbled, and Quatre fired. 

Louie's body was thrown back against the wall, a gaping hole in his chest from the close shot. Blood was splattered across the wall, the floor, and Quatre. The man re-holstered his gun, and grimaced. 

"By the way, if you surrender, I won't shoot," he muttered. Then he flashed a grin at Heero over his shoulder, before turning back to Trowa. "Here," he said, "let me help you up." 

"Come on, Heero," Wufei said, getting his shoulder under Heero's right arm. "Everyone's upstairs." 

Someone else moved, and Quatre turned, his arm under Trowa's shoulder as the blond regarded the two men lying in the hallway. His tone was cheerful. "Stay here, and someone will be down shortly to deal with you. Or you can try to get away, and give me something to do next weekend. Or you could even try and fight back now, if you want to tempt me." Quatre's announcement was met with unnatural silence, and he shrugged. "Good. Stay there." 

Heero smirked, and Wufei rolled his eyes, helping Heero to his feet. 

Quatre was halfway down the hall, assisting Trowa, who still hadn't spoken. Wufei, upon realizing Heero could limp reasonably well, let go, but stood close enough to catch him. Heero recognized the unspoken continued assistance, but only nodded curtly. His mind was racing, and he stared at Quatre, questions battling in his head. 

The blond diplomat sighed as they waited for the elevator doors to open. 

"I know," he said quietly, his sky-blue eyes trained straight ahead of him. "I shouldn't be...you can blame Relena when you see her." 

Wufei chuckled softly, and Heero raised an eyebrow. 

Quatre caught the look and shrugged, a wry smile on his lips. "Sally...was trying to infiltrate the President's personal guard, and intercepted orders that they were to be backup on an assassination attempt at an L4 convention. That was all we knew. I got there in time for dinner..." 

The doors opened, and two Preventers stepped out, their eyes immediately going to Wufei. 

"Arrest the two still alive," Wufei said grimly. "The other one will need a body bag and a mop." 

The two agents nodded and headed down the hallway, guns at the ready. 

Quatre helped Trowa onto the elevator, Wufei and Heero following. Wufei hit the button for the first floor. 

"I wasn't going to wear the armor," Quatre continued softly. "But Relena pretty much stripped me, shoved it over my head, and kicked me out of the hotel room." 

"Relena was there?" Heero choked on the thought. 

"No," Quatre replied. "We were staying in a Sector Four hotel. She insisted on coming, but I didn't want her near the action." 

They stepped out of the elevator. Heero set his jaw as they moved slowly down the corridor, back to the conference area. His voice was barely a whisper, just louder than their muffled footsteps on the carpet. "Iria?" 

"Stable. She'll survive." Quatre didn't look at him. 

Heero dropped his head. "Quatre...I'm sorry...I―" 

"It's okay," Quatre assured him. "You did what you could...and I understand why Duo didn't warn us. I don't like it, but I understand." 

Duo had been right, Heero thought, and could only sigh in response. 

His thoughts were interrupted by Trowa's voice. The taller pilot had stopped in the middle of the hallway, his blood-matted auburn hair hiding his face as he stared at the carpet in front of him. 

"I...can't do this." Trowa's shoulders were slumped. "This can't be...I can't...I just..." 

"Trowa," Quatre said, stepping forward to clasp Trowa's cheeks. "It's real. I understand. I forgive you." 

Wufei nudged Heero. Quietly the two pilots stepped away. 

"Duo?" Heero's voice was hesitant. 

"He's okay," Wufei replied. "Got a little cut up taking down one of the guards, but the meds should be done patching him up by now." 

"Thanks for coming to get us." 

"We would've been sooner, but it was chaos." He shrugged. 

Anything else he might've said was cut off, as a flash of blue caught both their attentions. Jeet was running down the hall towards them, a look of panic on his face. 

"Trey!" 

Quatre, startled, stepped away from Trowa, only to be bypassed as Jeet skidded to a stop on the carpet, a foot from Trowa. The young artist's face was anxious, and his hands reached out, and then dropped. 

"I...Nobody...knew where you were, if you were okay," he whispered, forlorn. Then he gasped as he was enveloped completely, silently, in Trowa's arms. Jeet buried his head in Trowa's neck, hugging gingerly as the taller man bent his head to kiss Jeet on the forehead. "I was so worried," Jeet mumbled. 

Duo ambled up, his eyebrows raised at the tableau. He nodded to Heero and Wufei, then glanced at Quatre, who was standing a few feet away, his head down. The blond diplomat was frowning, his face set in a painful expression that all of them recognized from the war. Heero watched surreptitiously as Quatre swallowed hard, his fingers clenching in fists at his side, and then Quatre exhaled slowly, his face returning to a calm appearance. He didn't look up as Jeet continued to whisper inaudibly to Trowa, who still didn't reply. 

Heero glanced at Duo, noting the longhaired man's shirt was rolled up to the elbows. There was a white bandage around his left forearm. Heero could see a rip in the shirt's side, and a glimpse of white told him there was another bandage underneath. Duo's braid was coming undone, and long strands of chestnut framed his face. 

"You got them out," Duo said to Wufei, under his breath. It was a quiet statement of gratitude. 

"Of course," Wufei said, frowning slightly. 

Duo shook his head, a grin appearing. He glanced back at Trowa and Jeet, still hugging. The smile faded, and when he looked back, Heero could clearly see the lines of exhaustion on Duo's face. 

"You didn't seem worried," Heero said, unexpectedly. 

"What? Now? Not really," Duo said, tossing another apologetic smile to Wufei. 

"No, before, during the conference." 

"That." Duo shrugged casually. "I've known Relena for far longer than you. I trust her implicitly. I've seen her at work...her and Chang. And...Winner." 

Heero nodded, frowning a little at the undercurrent of Duo's words. I haven't been around for five years, he reminded himself. People change, and I wasn't there to know who they'd become. He wondered if he knew, now. He wasn't sure. 

Behind them, Jeet had disengaged himself from Trowa, and was sniffling quietly. He registered the other men standing around him in a circle, and his eyes went wide as he took in their blank, measuring faces. 

"Is it true, what Hel said," he asked softly, canting his head up to stare into Trowa's face. "She said you're a Gundam pilot, and so is..." Jeet looked around, his brown eyes taking in Heero, and then all of them. "Wait...you're all Gundam pilots..." 

None of them moved, their eyes steady on him. Even Quatre raised his head long enough to give the younger man a measuring look. 

"You are," he breathed, as he turned in a circle to take in all of them. "You have battle eyes. I've seen that look before..." Jeet's eyes glittered as he turned back to stare up at Trowa, who merely watched him with a numb expression. "But this means they'll understand...that's a good thing. You're not alone..." He looked around the group one more time, as if satisfying himself of the truth of this statement, and was rewarded with a single curt nod from Duo. 

Jeet swallowed hard, then ducked his head. He mumbled something as he brushed past, but Heero couldn't make it out. He listened to the soft footsteps as Jeet retreated, and somehow wasn't surprised when Quatre followed soon after. 

"Come on," Wufei said, taking Trowa by the elbow. "You still need to see a doctor. And you, too, Yuy." 

Heero nodded, following Wufei. As the group reached the doors of the conference room, he realized Duo had not come with them. He was about to say something, then glanced to his left into the conference room. He stopped, taken aback by the sight. 

There were bloodstains on the wall and floors in several places, and a number of chairs were turned over. Medics were carrying out a body bag, and the two men stepped aside. Heero grunted as he bumped the doorframe, and Wufei turned, frowning. Trowa had shaken off Wufei's arm and continued walking. 

"Come on, you've got to see the medics first." 

"I'm fine." Heero scowled, pushing away the deep throbbing in his shoulder that was finally beginning to fade. "Just tell me what the fuck was going on that whole time." 

"First, we bandage that shoulder and take a look at that cut on your forehead. Une should be done talking to Hilde and that other woman by now." 

"Enny?" 

"The one with green hair?" At Heero's nod, Wufei smiled tightly. "She's got good aim. She took down a guy who thought Relena would make a good hostage." 

"What?" Heero turned in place and planted himself in front of Wufei, glaring. "What happened?" 

"Nothing we couldn't handle, Yuy," Wufei replied, an exasperated tone slipping into his voice. "Just get your ass over to the medics. Then we talk." 

Throwing Wufei a startled look for the unexpected crude language, Heero snorted. The other man gave him a shove, and the two continued down the next room, where the medics had set up their shop. 

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Heero was pulling his shirt back on, his movement hampered by the tight wrappings around his shoulder and chest. Buttoning his shirt, he glanced around the room. Most of the medics were packing up their kits, and only a few Preventers were still being treated for minor injuries. Trowa was still getting attention, and Quatre was nowhere to be seen. Wufei had left after depositing Heero with a field doctor. 

Disgruntled at the confusion, Heero wandered into the hallway, surprised to find Relena and Duo hugging. The young woman was sniffling softly, her arms around Duo's neck, and Duo's hands were clenched against her back. Heero held back, uncertain, waiting until they pulled apart. Other Preventers were moving around them, unconcerned by the quietly emotional display. 

"Heero?" Relena noticed him first, and pulled away from Duo. "My god, Heero, I'm so glad you're okay." She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffled. "Sorry," she said, her eyes lowered. "I'm really sorry to have done that to you." 

Heero nodded, his eyes dropping. He knew what she meant, but it was too much. He knew he was hitting the point of being overwhelmed. 

"Relena," he whispered suddenly, unable to hold back. She leaned in close to hear him. His head was down, and he closed his eyes against the sight of her trusting blue eyes. "Relena...I killed eight people. I..." He choked, unable to continue. His hands were open, lax. He couldn't garner enough strength to clench his fists to keep himself from crumbling in her presence. 

"Heero," she replied, gently placing one arm around his waist. She put the other at the back of his head, guiding his forehead to her shoulder. Heero buried his face in her neck, absently surprised to find his arms coming up as he clung to her. Relena turned her head to whisper in his ear, a soothing tone. "I don't know if it helps, but the policemen aren't dead...they were Maguanacs, and dressed in full body armor. The real policemen were in a storage closet, locked away. Auda is still upset about accidentally hitting Enny," she added ruefully. 

His arms went around her waist, tighter, and she sighed. 

"And those two Preventers deserved to die, for what they did to other agents," she continued, her voice steely. "And Iria's okay now, and the other two are going to make it." Heero started, and she laughed quietly. "The media doesn't always get their information right, and sometimes they aren't told―" 

"It doesn't change..." Heero mumbled into her neck, his fingers clawing at her back. "I swore..." 

"I know, and I'm sorry, so sorry..." Slowly she released him, her fingers still running through his hair. Stepping back, she gave him a watery smile, and he sighed, not quite meeting her eyes. Relena nodded, a tight line to her lips, and shook her head. "It's the price we pay for getting here, but I'm so sorry you had to be the one to pay it...again." 

Heero wasn't sure what to say, and pulled away a step, struggling to regain his composure. There was still more to deal with, he knew, but he couldn't manage to control the anguish he feared was obvious on his face. Lost, he raised his eyes to Duo, only to find the other man was looking down the hallway. Someone was heading towards them, fast. 

A second later, a bundle of energy had shoved past Relena to throw its arms around Heero, laughing madly. He barely had a chance to react before he was let loose. 

"I got a job!" Enny shouted at no one in particular, and went running into the conference room. They could hear her telling Trowa. No more than five seconds later she was out the door again, and down the hallway, calling for Jeet. 

"What was that about?" Relena asked, puzzled. 

"Enny did this to get a job with Preventers," Heero explained softly. The distraction had been just enough time for him to shove the secret hurt back down inside himself. He smiled a little at the young woman in front of him. "I guess Une was impressed." 

"So that's Enny," Relena commented. "She was amazing." 

"She is," Heero said, and smiled shyly. "Enny will tell you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear." 

"I could use more people like that around me," the young woman replied with a smile. 

"No point," Wufei interrupted as he approached the group. "You'd never listen, anyway. Yuy, Maxwell, Une wants to start the preliminary debriefing in a few minutes, if you want to join us." 

"Hell, yeah, Chang," Duo retorted. "Wouldn't miss this for the world." 

Heero nodded agreement, and turned to find Lady Une standing in the hallway behind him. Her large eyes were watching him closely, and she gave him a secretive smile as she tipped her head gracefully. Her brown hair was down, and it swayed a little as she moved. She looked exhausted, but pleased. 

"Agent Day," she said, in her melodious voice. 

He frowned, and glanced at Duo. Heero's frown grew deeper as he realized Duo's cheeks were lightly pink. Then Heero realized Une had been speaking to him. His eyebrows shot up as he returned his gaze to the Director. 

"Ah, you go by Hito Yuy, now," she said, and there was a trace of teasing in her voice that was quickly gone with her next words. "First, I wanted to compliment you on your work. I loved your portrait series of L3 orphans." 

Heero gave her a short bow, an eyebrow raised. "I didn't realize you were a fan." 

Une laughed. "I can't wait to see the collection you're releasing next month." 

"Excuse me?" He frowned. 

"There was an announcement last week from the publishing company, about your recent digital color work. The pictures with the release were gorgeous." 

"Ah..." Heero nodded, and gave her a crooked smile as he thought of Bernie. "I'm flattered." 

"Now that we have that out of the way, let's get back to business, Mr. Yuy. Before everyone meets for the debriefing, I have some men waiting to speak with you, personally. Follow me, please." 

She turned on her heel and strode off, not waiting for a response. Curious, Heero followed, catching up with her quickly. He was surprised to find that he was now an inch or two taller than the Preventers Director. 

People change in other ways, too, he thought, amused. I'm not short anymore. 

He stopped abruptly, though, when Une paused before a sofa in the hotel's lobby. There were two boys sitting on the sofa, poring over a laptop, with a young man perched on the arm. One of the boys looked like he was of Korean heritage, from the round face and full lips. The second boy's face had a British cast. His skin was pale, dotted with a smattering of freckles, and bright orange hair stood out at all angles. Heero guessed them both as high school age. 

The young man next to them looked to be Heero's age, and his black hair was pulled back in a short ponytail. The two kids were wearing jeans and long-sleeve t-shirts, with advertisements for popular computer games. The young man, however, was dressed in casual business attire, with khaki slacks and a blue button-up shirt. The young man noticed him first, and stood up with a shy smile. The two boys looked up next, and closed the lid with a guilty snap. 

"Wing?" The young man's voice was deep, but pleasant, and a little nervous. "Hi," he said, chuckling softly at his own embarrassment. "I'm...Nicholas. Uh...Rat." 

"Rat?" Heero's eyebrows shot up, and he grinned suddenly, a crooked expression. He thought about offering his hand to shake, but realized there was still dried blood on it from fighting the bodyguards. Frowning, he scrubbed his hand against the hip of his slacks and instead gave an abbreviated bow. 

Rat mimicked the bow, and grinned sheepishly. "These two," he said, turning to point at the kids on the sofa, "were the only ones who could make it. Meet Pinky, and Hand. Also known as Canh, and Mike." 

"What's this?" Duo's voice came up from behind, and he positioned himself alongside Heero with a foreboding expression. "Which one of you is Mike?" 

The second boy's gray eyes went wide and he nearly squeaked as he shrank back on the sofa. His red hair seemed to stand on end. 

"Yeah, thought so." Duo grinned, a wicked expression. "Think you could show me how you tracked me down in the first place? I've been trying to figure that out." 

Heero glanced sideways to see Duo's eyes dancing in mirth. To a stranger the expression was most likely more terrifying than reassuring. 

"Duo," Heero muttered. "Shut up. You're not helping." 

The longhaired man grinned cheekily, watching Mike uncurl from the sofa. The kid had clearly determined that Heero wouldn't let anything happen. Mike still watched Duo warily, but stood up between Pinky and Rat. Heero studied each, and waited. None of them spoke, and the silence grew thick. 

"Well? Which of you is going to tell me why you're here?" Heero was startled to hear a note of irritation in his voice. The idea of three civilians, in the middle of a scene like this mission, was not sitting well in his stomach. He glared at each in turn, crossing his arms as he waited. 

Pinky blanched, and looked at Rat. Mike stared at his feet. Rat looked back at the two kids, then swallowed hard as he met Heero's glare straight on. Out of the corner of his eye, Heero could see Une cover her mouth with a delicate hand, and Heero shot her a glare as well. She dropped the hand, revealing a suddenly serious expression. 

"Remember back when you didn't check in for thirteen days?" Rat's deep voice was low, and hesitant. "We...ah...went ahead and contacted the person you'd mentioned in Preventers. Mr. Chang. He said he had no way to get a hold of you, and he asked that we notify him if anything really important came through and you didn't check in." He pursed his lips, his green eyes dropping away from Heero's glare. 

"Stop doing that," Duo whispered in an aside to Heero. "I think you're scaring them more than I am." 

"I'm waiting to hear what was so important that three civilians risked being in the line of fire," Heero stated flatly. 

The two boys flinched, and Rat grinned suddenly. "Those emails were talking about the meeting, and that a Queen would be mediating. You hadn't checked in, so we contacted Mr. Chang. The news seemed too big...Anyway, he was about to leave Earth. He and I spoke by vidphone, and discussed the meeting. He explained the preliminary information he had about the hotel's security, and the fact that he didn't have anyone he could trust, who could hack the system to unlock the doors or install recording devices..." 

"So we volunteered," Mike piped up. His pleased expression disappeared the second Heero's stern glance fell on him. "I told Mom it was Preventers business. Mr. Chang even called her! So I got here from L1..." 

"Pinky and I live on this colony," Rat explained. "So this morning, these two set up in the bar." 

"The hotel's system is wireless, but only inside the building," Pinky said, picking up the story. "So we hacked into the system through the bar's register." 

"Snake helped break the security communications system, once we connected him through the forum," Mike said. "Then we broke a few things ourselves." 

"And we changed the administrator program interface at the same time," the Korean boy added. He rolled his eyes melodramatically, and Mike giggled. "That was so not fun, figuring out their stupid antique code. Snappy and Allie actually figured out the code. I think they're like, old, or something." 

"Shut up, kid," Rat interrupted, but without rancor. He turned to Heero. "Anyway, changing that meant when the systems administrators called the tech line, they were actually calling my house," Rat explained, his grin wicked enough to match Duo's. The Deathscythe pilot was struggling to keep from laughing as he listened, and Heero scowled. Rat noticed the look and attempted to appear serious. "So I naturally insisted on a personal visit." 

"It was great," Mike added. His sudden grin was cheerful, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Pinky figured out how to unlock the doors, and I shut down the comm system permanently, and screwed the dampeners." 

"Which meant I had to stick around and keep taking things down for reboots," Rat said. 

There was a long pause, and the three hackers stared at Heero expectantly. He was still registering the remarkable similarity between Mike's predatory hacker smile and the Duo he recalled from the war. When Heero still didn't say anything, Mike bit his lip, glanced at Une, and then raised his eyebrows at Heero. 

"So...you're really a Gundam pilot?" His voice cracked, and he blushed. "You seem...taller than I expected." 

"I've grown in six years," Heero replied curtly, and paused, letting the memory of a smiling face on a hospital monitor fade from his thoughts. A crooked grin was tugging at his lips, and he couldn't help it. "You three are crazy for getting in the middle of this. I don't know what I would've done if any of you had been hurt." 

"We heard gunshots," Pinky confessed. "But we hid behind the bar." 

"With the bartender!" Mike nodded his head excitedly, adding in an undertone, "he let us have a beer while we hid." 

"I couldn't even hear that much, from the server room," Rat said. He frowned, registering Mike's comment. "I didn't get a beer." 

Heero sighed and scrubbed at his hair, tousling it further as he shook his head again. He gave each a long studying look, and then nodded, after a short pause. "It's a good thing you were involved," he finally said, a little begrudgingly. "Thanks." 

"Mission accomplished!" Pinky turned and gave Mike a high-five. He laughed as he added, "You owe me twenty credits." 

Heero glanced back and forth between the two giggling boys and Rat's long-suffering expression. Heero shook his head, raising a hand to forestall an explanation. "I don't want to know." Turning to Une, he raised an eyebrow meaningfully. "We were going to have a debriefing, right?" 

"Right this way," she answered, tossing one last smile to the three hackers. "An agent will be out shortly, and you can turn over all the information you've collected. Your assistance with this is greatly appreciated, gentlemen." 

"Any time, Lady," Mike said, grinning widely as Pinky flushed. Une rewarded him with a wink. The three hackers responded with beaming smiles and nods, and seated themselves again as Heero and Duo followed Une back down the hall. 

"You go by first-name basis with them?" Duo sounded petulant. 

"Mike and I discovered we're both fans of a popular television show," Une replied off-handedly. When she spoke again, her voice was all business. "We've set up a temporary operation headquarters in one of the private dining rooms," Une explained as she led the way. "The rest of the agents should be waiting for us there. And the L2 agents should be done reading rights and escorting prisoners out by now. We've had to keep many of them on-site, taking them to the L2 Preventer headquarters in twos and threes. Not enough transportation," she added calmly. 

The three turned down a hallway, heading past the conference areas towards the restaurant. Down the hallway, Heero could see Jeet laughing with Sally, as Relena, Enny and Hilde passed the two. The three women were coming from the restaurant, chatting together quietly. 

Quatre was by the conference room door, speaking quietly to Wufei. Trowa was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. Trowa looked up as the three women approached. Between them and Heero, two men were being escorted from the conference room, their hands cuffed in front of them. Heero immediately stiffened as he recognized the short coppery hair. 

Alan glanced up, his lips curling derisively as he saw the five pilots and Lady Une. 

"I heard a rumor these are the notorious five," he drawled, his charm twisting with sarcasm. Alan's gaze fell on Une. "Although you're not much better than them, are you. Pleasure to meet you, pot, I'm kettle." 

Duo snorted, and Heero turned his head away. The agent holding Alan's elbow tugged slightly, but Alan ripped his arm away, snarling. 

"We paid for every penny of your training," he said, staring at Duo. The longhaired man's eyes narrowed, but he didn't respond, and Alan laughed softly. "You'd be dead in a gutter if it weren't for us. And even after the war was over, we protected you. We made sure there wasn't a repeat of that first unfortunate incident...you're ours. We _own_ you." 

With a quick jerk, Alan spun, grabbing the gun from the agent's holster. Bringing it up, he leveled the barrel straight at Duo's face. The entire group froze, stunned by the rapid movement. Heero cursed silently at the fact that he was still unarmed. Wufei had frozen with his hand on his own gun. Quatre's gun was out, but not yet raised. 

"Move, and I'll blow his brains out," Alan told them. "I have nothing left to lose, but I'll be damned if I'll let some trained dog turn on my organization like this. We invested millions in you. If you're not with us, I'm calling in the debt." He took careful aim. "Time to pay the piper, Mr. _Maxwell_." 

Alan cocked the gun. 

* * *

In case you're wondering... I don't own the pilots, nor anything else remotely Gundamian. I do, however, own a whole bunch of strange and crazy things. If you've been reading this story consistently, you'll notice not once did I ever list 'five sexy pilots' among my belongings. This is really a pity, but I don't know if I could handle sword hacks in my coffee table, a laptop being monopolized, my car being taken apart regularly, and lions in my basement. Plus I don't have any servants, so I imagine at least one pilot would be pretty unhappy having to do his own dishes. So, don't sue. Much appreciated. 

Maldoror: There's more to be explained about the actual sting operation, but I figure this chapter had enough details... it's a lot to wrap up. 

Patty 40: Glad you're enjoying it. Of course, you reviewed chapter 17, so you're probably going to be having a minor heart attack (or seven) by the time you get to this point, if everyone is any indication. 

Wing Gundam Zero: Enjoy the chapter. Next one's the last. That will be me, with the fine wine, drinking in celebration. W00+! 

Switchblade003: I'd like to give Trowa and Quatre more airtime, but I doubt they'd have too much heart-to-heart in front of Heero. It's a Heero-focused story, after all. But if I can, I'll give at least some hope...but I expect you to use your imagination as to where they go from here. But I have more stories planned, if that helps any. 

Lainwyn: Now you know! Mike really is a miniature Duo...smile and all. Ah, I couldn't resist... One final cliffhanger! 

Aurenne: Thanks for the pointer about the grammar tense. I didn't realize that, but I had all the archivists change it on their pages. I'll be updating the fanfiction and mediaminer versions when I upload this chapter. I'm always appreciative when folks point out slips of grammar, spelling, punctuation, or continuity – I work hard to keep everything in line, but it sometimes gets away from me. 

Cherrystained: I don't mind not having thousands of reviews. My chapters would be more review than chapter, if I had that many! ;D 

NeNa: See, I wouldn't want you to collapse on the carpet, again, so I updated now instead of waiting a week like I'd originally considered. *cackle* But I still couldn't resist a cliff-hanger. It was one final issue that had to be considered... 

Nihyaku: Quatre wasn't the only one to the rescue...but, essentially: yeah! 

Aryl: Hey, don't tempt me. So many folks are happy about Quatre, I might give him massive heart trauma in the last chapter just to be mean. Sheesh. He seems to have as many diehard fans as Trowa, and no one's even mentioned Trowa's snarky sense of humor in this chapter. *sniffle* 

Also many thanks to those who wrote me offline and on elists: Aradan, Tyr, Duo Priest, TKMaxwell, Jena, Morgan, Koyote, Casey Valhalla, RadicalThief, ArithKenshin, RurouniTriv, Okaasan, Milena, Dyna Dee, Ashkara, and Rosemary. 

Your compliments put a smile on my face, without fail, and I wouldn't work nearly as hard if I didn't know I had such a vociferous group of readers. You do realize, don't you, that all your screaming about cliffhangers makes writing them twice as much fun? Oh, you didn't? Well, now you know... 


	49. down to truth and bone

**03 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

I move through the day   
in the rhythms that I've known  
I've got this crazy dream   
of stripping down to truth and bone  
― Heather Nova 

There was a flurry of motion behind Alan, and Heero saw a flash of golden hair. Quatre, he thought, then realized Quatre was next to Wufei, within Alan's line of sight. Heero could see Enny, behind Alan, her mouth a round 'o' of shock. 

"Drop it, Kessler," a woman's voice ordered. A single click alerted them all that someone else now had a gun ready to fire. Heero couldn't see who it was, hidden behind the taller man's form. 

The man froze, then his face creased in a cruel smile. "Don't bluff with me, Relena. You're a pacifist," he snarled. 

"Yeah, I may be a pacifist," she snapped. "But I'm not a fuckin' doormat. I will shoot. Now...drop...that..._gun_." 

There was a pause, and Alan scowled, letting go of the gun with one hand. The agent grabbed the gun immediately, his face flushed as he glanced over at Une's steely expression. The agent holstered the gun and yanked Alan to the side, away from Duo. The move revealed Relena directly behind him, Enny's gun in her hand. The gun was starting to shake, and Enny took the gun from Relena quickly. The blonde barely registered the action, her eyes still fixed on Alan. 

The agents started to shove Alan and the other man forward, but Alan gave Duo a final glare as he passed. 

"Don't forget, we own you. And you will―" 

"Alan, shut up." Relena's voice was weary, but she'd regained her poise, and her blue eyes flashed. "You owned a big toy and trained an excellent pilot, but my friend's soul was never for sale. And his heart is out of your reach now, too. I suggest you keep your trap shut, unless you want it shut between here and the Preventers' station. Accidents happen." 

The threat hung in the air, and the agents escorted the two handcuffed men down the hallway. Heero watched, turning to see Duo's deep blue eyes fixed on Relena, shock warring with pride on his face. Heero's brow furrowed. He turned to Relena, who was smiling brightly. 

"I believe we have a debriefing to attend, everyone," she announced serenely. Her head up, Relena led them all into the restaurant, and through it to the private dining room. 

* * *

Une took the seat facing the door, with Wufei and Relena on either side. Quatre sat at Relena's left, with Duo next to him. Sally was on Wufei's right, with Trowa on her other side, followed by Heero and Enny. The fit was a little tight around the round table, but everyone squeezed in. 

"First," Une said, "Enny's here because she's now a Preventer. The ink's not dry, but for the present she's in Sally's unit. Other agents are debriefing Hilde and Jeet separately, as both of them are private citizens." Duo shifted in his chair, and Une smiled tightly. "Gundam pilots are not, nor will ever be, private citizens." 

She sat back in her chair, and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. Duo fidgeted until Enny elbowed him. Relena yawned, then smiled apologetically to Une. Wufei was watching Duo closely, while Trowa continued to study his hands. Heero glanced at Quatre, who also appeared to be studying his hands, but was stealing quick glimpses at Trowa. 

"The real purpose of this meeting is to allow the undercover team a chance to ask questions, and get honest answers," Une announced. She flipped her hair behind her shoulder and leaned forward, crossing her arms on the table. One long finger tapped on the table, absently. "We have your reports, so we're pretty confident we know your side of the mission." 

The announcement startled Trowa. 

"Remember those regular updates to Quatre? They were _really_ regular," Duo admitted softly, not meeting Trowa's piercing stare. 

Une's eyes darted from pilot to pilot, assessing each before she spoke. "I'll be blunt. What is said in here may not be the final version of the truth, once we leave this room, depending on the spin required. My hope is that the Preventers will still exist, but that remains to be seen. You eight have effectively undermined the entire system, if for a good cause. Relena, if you'd please start." 

"I've been an adjunct for the President's Council for a year now," Relena replied quietly. "After...Duo came to see...us, I decided to investigate the Council's stand on guns, starting with the President. It took a month, and Haune started letting me into his confidence. I kept at Quatre..." 

"Pestered me endlessly," Quatre said, and Wufei snorted. 

""So, I needed your help!" Relena rolled her eyes and waved their reactions away. "Long story short, I became a sort of personal advisor and mediator for the President. Seven months ago, he introduced me to Mr. Thepot, whom Mr. Haune described as a business associate. It took time, but the two men slowly let me in. I spent..." Her blue eyes shuttered, and there was a small crease marring her brow. "I spent five months being the personal mediator for the head of the North European Alliance...I got enough to make me curious, but never quite enough to see the whole picture. Everything could be explained as legitimate business. The most I could prove was that the President was using his position for business deals." 

"That's still illegal," Duo observed. 

"But it's not a count of murder. Those bastards shouldn't get off so easy," Relena told Duo. Her eyes flashed. "They...seemed to think I was tired of pacifism's illusion, and had accepted the reality of politics...and I let them believe that. They saw me as their protégé." Her lips twisted unhappily, and she looked away. 

"About that time," Wufei said, picking up the thread, "I started investigating the President's Preventer guards. With Relena's reports, we had a suspicion that the President was using his guard for personal gain, but he covered his tracks too well." 

"So we ganged up on Quatre," Relena added dryly. 

"I hadn't been convinced there was reason to get involved," the blond added, clearly reluctant to say the words. "I'm sorry, Duo. They were saying my own foundation might be incriminated. That's why I dragged Heero into this. I wanted you to have the best backup I could provide. I didn't think the Maganacs would be enough." 

Duo turned his head away, frowning. Heero glanced to Trowa, who simply sighed, not looking up. 

"Heero, I'm sorry I didn't tell you everything." Quatre's eyes were level, but his expression was remorseful. "I didn't...I don't know why. I was still...hurt. I was being selfish." 

"We didn't know it was anything more than a simple gun smuggling operation, at that point." Wufei shook his head, regret on his features. "Sally and I kept our eyes on the President's personal guard, but we didn't realize until the L4 convention..." He sighed and tucked a strand of black hair behind his ear. "When I brought the guns to L4..." 

"On Une's orders?" Duo wanted to know. 

Heero noticed Enny's eyes were darting between all the speakers, and he could tell the bright young woman was rapidly piecing together what little she'd observed, with the news she was getting. He doubted she was missing anything, and he smiled inwardly. She'd make an excellent Preventer. 

"Not entirely," Wufei was replying to Duo's question. "Relena was aware that the President wanted something moved, fast, to L4. Une got the request from Duo, and a short explanation." 

"An entirely too short explanation," Une added wryly. "It amounted to a statement of an upcoming job, the date, and a list of needs." 

Wufei nodded. "Quatre was the one who thought there was a connection. He told Relena to tell the President it would be foolhardy to have the same Preventers deliver the guns and appear at the convention. So she suggested to them that I deliver, instead. Meanwhile, Quatre himself was scrambling to figure out what the guns were for. He had nearly completed his investigation into the President's and Council's email accounts, and was starting to make progress on the big picture." 

"I wasn't scrambling," Quatre retorted, but his lips were curling into a smile. "I was in a controlled panic." 

Wufei raised an eyebrow and turned his attention back to Duo. "It wasn't until a day before the event, Sally was invited to join the guard on a test basis...that's when we realized the true implications of Duo's purchase." 

"The guard was there to kill you once you completed your task," Sally interjected, but didn't look at anyone as she said it. "The President would have been able to claim a quick resolution, bolstering the Preventers and covering up the syndicate's work at the same time." 

"We had to work fast," Quatre added, a rueful look on his face. "The Maganacs located the shuttle, based on pilot descriptions. Auda and two of his best men stayed there, assuming that your team would use that escape route. The rest, you know." 

Heero watched the three friends glance at each other, an unspoken series of questions and answers. Finally Relena nodded to Wufei and Quatre, and licked her lips, sitting up straighter as she spoke. 

"Right after the L4...incident," Relena said, "Mr. Haune asked me to mediate a high-profile business meeting. That was on Monday." 

"Tuesday, I heard from Rat," Wufei interjected. "I got that information to Quatre by Wednesday morning." 

"That's when things fell completely into place," Quatre added. "Between the President's and syndicates' correspondence... we had enough to take down the entire network, in a court of law, beyond any doubt. But we still didn't have anything to tie the President to anyone's deaths, specifically. We were also afraid that your covers weren't going to hold for long once you moved into the elite ranks of the syndicate. You'd be dealing with too many people who were influential in OZ and the Alliance during the wars, and might have seen you before. We were beyond scrambling at that point." He paused, and chuckled ruefully, his blue eyes dancing. "I'd say we were damn near stampeding." 

Wufei laughed softly, agreeing. There was a sigh, and the two friends looked to their third friend, sitting next to Une. Relena was studying the palms of her hands. Heero could see the set of her chin, and recognized the same subtle nervousness that had affected her during the meeting. The group waited patiently as the young woman arranged her thoughts. 

"I traveled with Thepot and Haune, bringing Wufei as my personal guard. Quatre came separately. Fortunately he was well enough to travel..." She let it hang, knowing the pilots were aware that a point-blank shot, even with body armor, would leave massive bruising. A week's recuperation, though, was enough for any of them. Relena ran a hand through her hair, pulling out the ponytail holder. "We arrived the afternoon before. As you probably guessed, I recognized Trowa in the hallway, and unfortunately both men were with me, as was Mr. Kessler." 

"I can't wait to hear this one," Duo muttered quietly. 

"Duo," she said miserably. "The dynamics were clear. Now that L4 was willing to ally, L2 stood in the best position to come out on top. If I let Alan run the meeting, I'd never have a way to manipulate the President into admitting his involvement with the Preventers, or your friend's death, or anything else. I saw the chance, and I took it. I suggested to Alan that a Gundam pilot could be a useful bargaining point over the South European Alliance." 

Trowa frowned slightly, his eyes lowered. He'd cleaned the blood from his hair, and the damp strands hung down in his face. 

"I'm sorry, Trowa," Relena said softly. "I know it was a risk. I had to undermine the Earth syndicates and put L2 in a position of power, and then pull out the trump and undermine the colony syndicates." 

"This isn't telling me how you got past our guard," Duo said. "We had this place locked up tighter than Treize's rose garden." 

Une raised an eyebrow at the analogy. 

"Jeet," Sally said, and grinned. "The Maganacs reported a young blue-haired man in the lobby. Quatre figured it out and made the call. It was a lucky guess, and finding Jeet alone was an even luckier break." The Preventer laughed cheerfully. "Hi, I'm here for an interview." She waved her fingers, and Enny giggled softly. Sally grinned at the newest Preventer. "You'd be surprised how many people don't question if you tell them you have an appointment. Actually, Duo, if anyone would know that, it should be you." 

"He would, but he's been hit on the head too many times," Wufei said. He sounded annoyed, but his lips were twitching suspiciously. 

"The head of security was upstairs supervising the computer crash," Sally continued as though Wufei hadn't spoken. "But the servers wouldn't override the basic video feed, and we had forty agents to get through the door," Sally explained. "So I held up a piece of paper that asked Jeet if he knew Trowa...Trey. He had no idea where Trowa was. But he drew me a map, and even wrote out the security guard crossover times and standing points. He also promised to keep the security guards upstairs, and gave me the clearest route from the loading docks to the conference rooms. The line remained silent, and no one knew." 

"That young man kept his word," Une added with a smile. "From what I hear, he spent the next hour sending guards everywhere, on the premise that the computer system was sending the wrong messages." 

"When it sent them at all," Sally said. 

"I was waiting for the break," Relena said, picking up the thread. "The agents were supposed to enter as hotel staff, serving food. The problem was that I was afraid Kessler would trigger a warning to his men, and they'd either remove Trowa from the hotel or kill him outright..." 

"They came close," Quatre muttered, but didn't look up. Heero frowned, and glanced over to see Trowa studying the blond diplomat closely. When Trowa noticed Heero watching, his gaze slid away, back down to the table. 

"So I needed a way to find Trowa, and Heero became that way," the young woman explained. 

"Mr. Thepot wasn't present," Heero said, and pinned Relena with a glare. "You weren't being a mediator. You were acting as the North European Alliance representative." 

"That wasn't exactly planned," Relena said, abashed. "That was Wufei's idea." 

"Not really," Wufei admitted. "I just said it'd be easier to manipulate them if she were in a position of power." 

"I went to Mr. Thepot's room after dinner, on the pretense that I could more easily argue his position if he could explain his syndicate's priorities. It was nearly two in the morning before I had all the information...and an idea." She grinned, suddenly, and the change lit up her whole face. "I ordered room service. Tea and biscuits, actually." 

"That was your grand idea?" Enny was skeptical. 

"I put lemon in the cream," the blonde replied primly. When no one reacted, she sighed. "It curdled the milk for his tea. An hour later he wasn't feeling too well, and this morning he was completely incapacitated. I informed Mr. Haune that Mr. Thepot wanted me to speak on his behalf." Relena laughed softly, a hand over her mouth. "Mr. Thepot actually just wanted someone to shoot him and put him out of his misery. He was still complaining when the Preventers carted him out of his hotel room twenty minutes ago." 

"So you just waltzed into the hotel, delivered lunch, and that was it?" Trowa was skeptical. 

Enny laughed. "That's what it looked like from where I was. Hilde and I were hanging out, wondering where all the security guards were, and here comes this blond guy at the head of a long string of people dressed like waiters with break carts. I was about to ask him just how much food the hotel thought those people could eat, and he holds up a Preventers badge, and says..." She glanced at Quatre, who chuckled. 

"Wanna job?" Quatre flashed a dimple at the green-haired girl, who grinned widely. 

Duo laughed. Relena rolled her eyes, and Trowa even chuckled. 

"So I said, hell yes!" Enny grinned. "Next he tells me, you've got it, if you lead us in. I unlocked the door and announced the break as planned, and the fake waiters came in...and kept coming in, until the whole room was surrounded." 

"And someone took Relena hostage?" Heero narrowed his eyes at Enny. 

"It was one of the bodyguards," the new Preventer replied. "And he didn't have a gun, just a knife. I took out his arm." 

"Blood everywhere," Relena muttered. "Good thing I was wearing red." 

"It was a madhouse, but over in thirty seconds." Quatre snorted. "Three bodyguards dead, eight wounded. No Preventers down." 

The group was quiet, and finally all eyes came to rest on Director Une. She checked her watch. "It's five-thirty now, and we still need to get full statements from each of you. I'd suggest we start now, as this is only one of two secure rooms in the hotel." She sighed, and her smile grew sad. "I know this has been hard on all of you, and I don't know how things will work out. I must apologize that I was not in a position to assist any of you further..." 

"We understand," Trowa whispered. "We don't like it, but we understand." He glanced at Quatre, fully aware he was echoing the other pilot's earlier words. 

"Two more things, then," Une said, calm returning to her features. "The first is that the visual recordings of the meeting, from the hotel's videotape, are probably going to be used in court. And frankly, they'll have far more power if we can publicize them without censorship. This means at least three of you will have your identities revealed to the rest of the world...but it may go a long way to undoing the lasting residue of public perception that the Gundam pilots are terrorists." 

The room was silent. 

Une pursed her lips, and sighed. "One other thing. I'll need a lot of help, building a new Preventers organization that isn't so easily destroyed by private or political interests. I would greatly appreciate your assistance." 

"You just want the PR of announcing the five Gundam pilots are now on the side of good," Duo muttered. He'd pulled his braid around, and was stroking it absent-mindedly. 

"You are not just window dressing," the Director snapped, annoyed. "You each have skills, and the Preventers needs those skills. Badly. Agent Night," Une shot a quick smile Duo's way, "you have always partnered well with Agent Day." Une's eyes fell on Heero. He was again startled by the code name she'd selected for him. 

"Partner the two of them," Wufei muttered sarcastically, "and all you'll get are missions done on a wing and a prayer. They're both all about acting first, to hell with permission on the details." 

Une raised an eyebrow, but otherwise did her best to ignore Wufei's comment. "Agent Sky," she said to Trowa, "I have never forgotten your skills from the war, and your actions in this mission prove you haven't, either." 

Trowa raised an eyebrow, and the two shared a quiet smile. Then the moment passed, and Une cleared her throat before continuing. When she spoke, her voice was stern. "As for you, Agent Earth, you need to decide whether to protect yourself behind the Winner organization, or to assist us in exposing the way your family's company was used to engineer this entire situation." 

There was a long pause, and Quatre didn't answer. 

"You choose," she said. "But I'm considering all of you back on Preventers' payroll for the time being." 

"No," Heero said. He was surprised by the vehemence in his voice, but he kept his face impassive as the entire room turned to look at him. "I'm not doing it. I've done enough, and I..." He glared at Une. "No. I walked away from this five years ago, and once I give you my report, I'm walking out that door and I will not walk back in again." He stood up, surprised at the anger flooding his system. 

He had the door halfway open when Relena shot to her feet as well. Her voice was a commanding bark. "Heero!" 

The insistent tone halted him, and he turned with narrowed eyes to study the young woman. Her blue eyes were hard as flint, and she pointed at his seat. "Sit down." When he didn't move, she pushed away from the table. Striding around it, Relena slammed the door shut, wrenching the doorknob from his grasp. 

"_Now_," she hissed. 

Heero scowled, but returned to his seat. Relena watched, then returned to her own seat. She leaned forward, her jaw set in a firm line. 

"You are a not a murderer," she announced coolly. 

He frowned, a thin line appearing between his brows. 

"Don't give me that," Relena told him. "You can be a single-minded idiot, but you were never _only_ a soldier. You haven't changed that much. I know what you were thinking, so don't even try to deny it." 

The Wing Zero pilot grunted, but didn't drop his eyes from hers. The rest of the group was silent, holding their breath. 

"However, I'll have you know that I think you're also being a selfish bastard," she said, jabbing a finger at him. "You'd feel sorry for yourself―" 

"Relena," Heero growled, a low warning. 

"Oh, I know it's hard," she said, and her tone was sympathetic. "I can sympathize, but I will not watch you shirk the rest of the mission. If you do, you'd better not come near me, because I spent the past six months consigning possibly _hundreds_ to their deaths." 

Heero didn't move, frozen, his eyes wide. Relena swallowed hard, her eyes squinting with the effort hold back tears. Angrily she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. When she dropped her hand back to the table, both hands clenched into fists as she spoke through gritted teeth. 

"Quatre found the records three days ago, with the hackers' help," she whispered, her voice quavering. "It concerned what I thought was a business deal I'd helped mediate. The company Mr. Thepot wanted to shut down...wasn't. It was the brokered death sentence for fifteen families who'd tried to fight the syndicate's extortion. The fact that I didn't know, doesn't change that there are now people...dead...thanks to my words." She lifted glittering blue eyes to stare at Heero. "And that's not the only time I gave advice that probably led..." She couldn't finish the sentence. 

Heero's gaze shot to Quatre, who nodded. The Sandrock pilot's blond hair hung down, masking his eyes. Trowa's green eyes were wide with pain. Duo's face was turned away, studying the wall intently, his eyes blank. Enny stared at Relena. Sally and Wufei were both still, their jaws set. Une was watching Relena, worry clear on her face. 

"I know you...and the team...were the ones on the front lines." Relena took a deep breath, and smiled, a fierce expression. "But you're not the only ones dealing with the consequences." 

"The Barton Incident demonstrated the flaw in our peace," Wufei said, studying his hands. "People must assist in defending themselves, instead of relying on someone stronger. We're part of the people, too. We're not separate. What we have to offer...we must." 

"That's what got us into this, in the first place," Quatre agreed quietly. "We trusted that the peace we could see was good enough. We weren't vigilant." He sighed, and raised his head to Une. "I'm in. I'll dismantle the entire Winner foundation, if I have to." 

Une nodded, and her eyes drifted to Trowa, who also nodded, after a pause. The Director raised an eyebrow at Heero, who frowned slightly, dropping his gaze. He studied the table surface for a long moment before shaking his head. 

"I don't know yet. I need time to think about it," he whispered. Standing again, he waited for Une's dismissing nod. He didn't meet anyone's eyes as he did so, keeping his head down as he left. 

* * *

But first, thanks to Casey Valhalla for reviewing the meeting scene in ch50, and suggesting a few points. After considerable thought, I decided not to address everything. With a story this complex, not everything can be wrapped up neatly in a bow in the final chapter...and I don't think it should be, either. Re-read the last section, if you're wondering why. 

Chapter 49 review responses: 

Nihyaku: I know, one last cliffhanger. I simply couldn't resist. Forgive me yet? ;D 

Nekojin: Duo is definitely taken care of...man, I love Relena's line. She has real kick-ass potential. 

SilverCaladan: Ah, someone who noticed the fleck of blue paint! It always pleases me to see that people pick up on those details. 

Aryl: Since the story was in Heero's POV, I doubt we'll see any Quatre/Trowa action unless the two of them turn into exhibitionists. I think, in some quiet ways, they might have a hopeful resolution, but I think that's their story, so I won't tell it here. Plus, no shagging. I'm not apologizing, cause it simply doesn't fit. You'll just have to use your imagination for what happens next... 

JuliTina: Never fear. I refuse to be someone who keeps chapters hostage, trying to get reviews. I just know a cliffhanger in the second-to-last chapter is probably a cruel thing, which is why I did it. And you get a cookie for being the first person to register that Mike's forum (and Une's) was the one obliterated by Duo's virus. Good reader! 

Turtlefire: No stuffing limes, or lemons, but you can imagine an orange if you like. That's a sex scene that happens off-camera, or out-of-chapter in this case. See my comments to Aryl. You're welcome to reassure yourself that Quatre and Trowa will be a happy couple in the romantic comedy I'm starting next, how's that sound? 

Maldoror: Bwahaha, watch me dare to end it right there! And watch me do it again in this chapter. It just seemed like the right place... 

Seito no Senshi: I try to update regularly. I just don't think I could manage interest in a story, let alone the momentum of a story this complex, if I took a week's break – or a month's – between chapters. Some can do it, but I can't. As for archiving, I'll write you separately, but I've got no problem with it. I'm flattered by the request! 

Wing Gundam Zero: Well, now you know what happened. And I imagine that many folks are figuring out that "cocking" the gun doesn't mean the same as "shooting" it. It simply means the safety is disengaged, on many guns, and when the trigger goes back, it'll be fired. Believe me, if he'd fired at point-blank range like that, it'd be a very different final chapter! 

Mashiro Karasu: Heero will probably remain confused, but that's part of his charm. Duo seems to have it all figured out. Good thing someone does! 

Neekabe: Yeah, cuffing the hands in front... moronic. But useful for my crazy cliffhanger! I don't normally keel into people's demands, but I realized the hackers needed to be on-site for what I wanted. So ta-dah, it's Mike! He was just so much fun to write. 

Kasifya: Ieee, is right. *covers ears* Heh. Yes, the "Quatre?" line was a kicker. I was cackling madly as I ended it there... 

Nlp: I imagine leaving it here isn't enough for folks, but it'd take me another ten chapters to cover the undoing of the changes wrought in every character over the last 50. And the real issue, in the end, wasn't whether Quatre and Trowa end up a couple, or whether Enny gets a new job, but whether Heero can correct the mistakes of his past. And his one biggest mistake was leaving everything – including Duo – behind, as a way to deal with the aftereffects of Mariemaia. Once he learned, and chose differently...story over. The rest, you have to imagine on your own. 

GoldenRat: Yes, Quatre alive, Duo alive, everybody (mostly) happy. Actually, now that I've done these responses, I'm wondering if it'll spark the same kind of "what happens next" questions as the original series, since there are as many questions now as, perhaps, there were in the beginning. Maybe I'll leave that to others to continue... 

Also thanks to those who wrote me off-line: Tyr, RurouniTriv, Zaz, Duo Priest, Cassie, Dyna Dee, Ashkara, Casey Valhalla, Clever Y. Thief, Koyote, Sevenall, and ArithKenshin. Also thanks to those who archived me, patiently dealing with a few edits (ahem) and formatting every damn chapter: Tyr, Calic0Cat, Netta J, Deb Shenlong, Eos, and Kitsunehi. I don't think I missed anyone, and I apologize in advance if I did. 


	50. beating your wings and feathers

**03 Feb 04 : REVISED & REPOSTED**

* * *

Beating your wings and feathers,  
you broke free from this cage.  
Rising up to the sky, you attained the world of the soul.  
You were a prized falcon trapped by an Old Woman.  
Then you heard the drummer's call  
and flew beyond space and time.  
― Jalaluddin Rumi 

"Wing!" 

Heero almost didn't turn around, before he realized the call was for him. The cry came again, and he did turn, to see Mike heading towards him, two Preventers in tow. 

"I have to catch a flight back," Mike announced. He shoved several papers at Heero. "These...uh, these are for Deathscythe," he said, a bit shyly. "It's the steps I followed to find him the first time." 

"Ah," Heero said, glancing down momentarily before folding the papers and putting them in his back pocket. "I'll make sure he gets them. And call him Duo. We don't have our Gundams anymore." 

"Bummer, isn't it," Mike said softly. 

Heero blinked, then smiled despite himself. He gave the kid a shrug. "Sometimes, I guess." 

"You're still Wing 'n Deathscythe to us," Mike said, and his gray eyes were large and anxious. "An' all the rest of you. You don't need a big machine for that." 

"I..." Heero closed his mouth, and frowned, wondering what he could say. He glanced at Mike, who dropped his eyes, and Heero nodded. "I can't speak for the rest of them, but if you want to call me that...you can." 

"All right, Wing," Mike replied. 

Heero gave the boy a crooked smile, and glanced past him to the two agents. 

Mike's eyes followed Heero's gaze, and he grinned. "I tried to explain everything," he whispered, "but I don't think they got a lot of it. I think I lost them when I got to the part about how to log into a secure channel." 

"I suspect they'll turn your report over to the appropriate department for translation," Heero replied. 

"Actually..." The kid blushed deeply, surprising Heero. "They want me to take the tests to come work for the Preventers." His gray eyes searched Heero's face anxiously. "Do you...do you think it's a good idea? It's better than a shoe store. Hell, anything is! And I'd guess my mom would like the idea, but..." He made a face, ducking his head. 

"I doubt all your tasks for Preventers would be nearly as exciting as this one," Heero acknowledged. He paused, thinking of Wufei, and smiled wryly at the thought. "But I hear it's a good place to work. You could do a lot of good." 

"I dunno." Mike scratched the back of his head as he pondered. Heero nearly choked at the resemblance to Duo, but somehow managed to keep his face straight. Mike didn't seem to notice. "You think they'll get mad about all the stuff we did for you?" 

"If they do, they can take it up with me," Heero replied. I'll just put it on the list of consequences, he thought, and the realization made him suddenly aware of just how exhausted he was. 

One of the agents coughed politely. "Mr. Yuy, Mr. Anders, I'm sorry to interrupt." He smiled at Mike, and looked at Heero. "We need to get your statement, Mr. Yuy." 

Heero nodded absently. Mike hesitated, then stuck out his hand. When Heero didn't respond immediately, Mike's smile wavered for a second. The dark-haired man smirked and took Mike's hand, shaking it firmly. 

"Good working with ya, Wing." 

"Same to you, Hand." 

Mike beamed widely and backed up, nearly running into one of the agents. 

"Mr. Anders," the second agent said. "We've got a ride waiting for you. Right this way." 

"Cool," Mike drawled, walking backwards to wave at Heero before turning to grin up at the agent. His voice trailed off as they headed down the corridor. "Is it a Preventers car? Can I sit the front? Can we turn on the siren?" 

* * *

By nine forty-five, Heero was done with his statement. Hilde was waiting in the hallway for him as he left the room. 

The petite brunette smiled, clearly exhausted. Without saying anything, she threw her arms around the surprised man and hugged him tightly. "It was good working with you," she whispered. "And before you say anything, Duo told me...about the President. And Joe." 

"You're okay?" 

"As well as can be," she said, releasing him. Her laugh was tinged with bitterness. "Death is too good for him. He should rot, for a long time." 

"I'm sure you'll make it happen," Heero said, and startled her with another hug. "I was proud to be on your team," he added, and kissed her on the forehead. 

She pulled away, blushing a little, but gave him a pleased smile. It faded quickly into a sorrowful look. "Heero...I'm sorry," she whispered. 

"For what?" Heero gave her a puzzled look. 

"For not telling you right away," Hilde replied, dropping her head to stare at the floor. "For making you wonder...for shutting you out. And for punching you," she added, giving him a worried look. 

Heero could feel his lips curling up into a half-smile. "I understand now," he told her, as the expression grew into a true smile. "But you had me as confused as all hell at the time." 

"Oh, like you didn't have me completely upside down," she cried indignantly. Hilde swatted him in the shoulder, and Heero ducked away, laughing softly. Hilde put her hands on her hips. "I was ready to throw both of you in a room and let you figure it out, or fight it out. I never am sure what to do with you Gundam pilots." 

"Us Gundam pilots?" Heero did his best to look innocent, but he knew she could tell he was teasing. "It's not like we're a species. We're all very different." 

Hilde shook her head. "You're all proud, stubborn, hardheaded men who have the damnedest hard time trusting other people." She sighed, and threw her hands up in the air dramatically. "Look, I don't know how you'll take this, but I've kinda gotten used to thinking of you as one more brother. And I just...I saw when they came out of the room, after you left. You five need to talk." She waved a hand in the air, vaguely. "Y'know, square things away." 

"We will," Heero promised. "But we're all exhausted. Now probably wouldn't be the best time." 

"Not saying it has to be this minute. But you'd better do it, and don't be putting it off," she told him firmly. "Or I'll come to L1 and kick your ass." 

"Is it going to involve wearing my balls for earrings?" Heero kept his voice perfectly bland, and was secretly delighted to see Hilde turn scarlet. 

"I was playing a role," she hissed, her blue eyes wide. 

"You had me convinced," he told her, and just barely managed to keep his face completely neutral as she sputtered. "Sure you don't want to go into the Preventers? You'd be great at undercover." 

Hilde gave him a suspicious look, blinked, and grinned widely. "No way. I did my time in uniforms." She shook her head. "No, Howard's retiring. His friend Bart is taking over the Sweeper operations, and I have a standing invitation to move in as Bart's replacement on his run. Howard's been telling me for awhile he thinks I should run my own ship." 

"You'd be great at it," Heero said. She glanced at him, her eyes narrowed, and he raised an eyebrow. "What?" 

"I can't always tell when you're teasing and when you're serious." Hilde shook her head. "You were always serious when I met you, between the wars." 

Heero frowned. "I wasn't that bad." 

"Oh, yeah, you were," she retorted. "You were all business!" Hilde grinned, and put her arm through his, tugging him close. "I like you better with the head injuries," she teased. Heero rolled his eyes, and she laughed. "I do. Whatever happens, don't go telling yourself you're just an out-of-work Gundam pilot. I've seen what you really are, and I like it." She stopped, releasing his arm as she stepped back with an abashed laugh. "Sorry. Didn't mean to get all..." Hilde shrugged, embarrassed. 

"It's okay." He gave her an equally embarrassed look. "You're the second person tonight who's told me I'm not just...what I used to be," he finished, uncertain how to phrase it. 

"Good. Maybe eventually it'll sink in." Hilde's smile flashed across her face, brilliant enough to make Heero smile in return. She glanced up and down the hallway, chewing on her lower lip. Heero recognized the sign, and waited for her to speak. "So...Duo said something about you planning to go back to L1. Get back to that photography life, hunh." 

Heero's eyes slid away from her gaze, and he shrugged, a forced casualness. "I...haven't been there in awhile. I need to get back, and get my life in order." 

"And your head, too," Enny's voice came from behind them. The two turned to see the new agent's sad look, and Enny smiled as Hilde stepped away, giving them room. The green-haired young woman embraced Heero tightly, kissing him on the cheek. "You're leaving, even after you promised you wouldn't live up to your nickname." She stepped back with a wry smile. "All that work on you's been wasted, heartbreaker. What a pity." 

Heero grunted, annoyed. 

"You're still an idiot," Enny said, and poked him in the shoulder, grinning when he winced. "Don't go running back to your old life and lose what you gained in your new one, _Hito_." With that, she dropped an arm over Hilde's shoulder and the two strolled down the hallway. Heero could hear Enny's voice floating back towards him. "What we really need is some good music, and a few tall drinks with umbrellas in them..." 

* * *

Heero hung up the lobby phone, and ran his fingers across the vidphone's surface before stepping away from the phone stand. He was startled to find Trowa leaning against the corridor wall. The man's arms were crossed, and his head was down. His hair was in his face, but he twitched his head slightly and his hair slid out of the way, revealing one green eye studying Heero intently. 

"Heading back tonight," Trowa observed quietly. 

"Yeah." Heero shrugged, and stuck his hands in his pockets. His stomach flip-flopped, and he wondered why he felt nervous. "I gave my statement." The agents made it clear they expected Heero to keep in touch. They would likely have more questions, once the preliminary reports were compiled. 

Trowa nodded, and they were both quiet for several seconds. 

"What are you planning on doing now?" Heero felt peculiar, asking the question, and doubly so when Trowa shot him a surprised look. 

"Don't know yet." Trowa closed his eyes, and shrugged, then opened his eyes to fix his gaze on Heero. "I saw Une a few minutes ago. She's willing to assign me to L3, so I can finish veterinary school." He sounded amused. "Don't know what value there is for small animal husbandry as a Preventer, though." 

"Search and rescue dogs?" 

Trowa brightened, and the corners of his lips curled up. "Hadn't thought of that." 

Heero returned the smile. The two were quiet for a few more seconds. Someone left one of the conference rooms down the hall, and the motion caught Heero's gaze. He watched the agent head away from them. "Duo still in his interview?" 

"Think so," Trowa replied. "Saw Enny. She's already packed, and is flying out in three hours with Sally and Wufei. Une wants her in the next round of Preventer basic training." 

"Une works fast." Heero frowned. "I had planned to talk to Wufei," he murmured, under his breath. 

"There's always later. I doubt any of us are up to major conversations right now." 

"You speak from personal experience?" Heero risked a glance at Trowa. He noted the lines creasing the taller man's face, and the exhausted angles of Trowa's shoulders. 

Trowa nodded, his expression rueful. "Yeah...but it's not that bad." 

"How's the oxygen level?" Heero wondered if Trowa would get the reference. 

The man's green eyes were suddenly bright. "A little better." His smile turned wry. "Until I got to the part about Jeet." 

"Enny wants to send Jeet to art school," Heero commented. He moved to stand next to Trowa, leaning against the wall shoulder-to-shoulder with the taller man. 

"And one of the best is on L3." Trowa's face was inscrutable. "I...care about him, too," he added, his tone soft, almost tentative. "We...put him through a lot. He's not like us, but he stuck it out." 

"Yes, he did," Heero said thoughtfully, as the corners of his lips quirked up into a crooked smile. "A crash course in dealing with Gundam pilots." 

"Crash being the operative word. Didn't think I was going to get out of that last one," Trowa whispered. 

"As Duo would say, we have the devil's own luck." 

"Don't let Duo know I agreed with him," Trowa replied. "He's going to have a big enough ego once Quatre and Wufei are done with their private apologies." 

Heero laughed quietly, remembering Hilde's comments. "Perhaps we should put those three in a room together and let them hammer it out. If you'll do the honors, I'll buy the drinks while we wait for the explosions to stop." 

"Tequila," Trowa shot back. "None of that crap you drink." 

"Whiskey is not crap," Heero retorted, bristling slightly. "At least my choice of evil doesn't come with an insect in the bottom." 

"A worm is not an insect." 

The dark-haired man grunted, unwilling to concede on principle. He wondered what time it was, and sighed. "Hilde said she was ready to throw Duo and me in a room together. Perhaps..." He let the implication hang in the air, curious. 

Trowa stilled, tension suddenly thrumming in his body. A muscle flickered in his jaw, but slowly he relaxed, shaking his head. "No. Don't think it'll be necessary. Just...time." He caught Heero's look, and turned to stare at the wall opposite them. "Not for me. For him. I'm going to L3, and I'm going to finish my degree. If he really wants me, he knows where to find me." Trowa glanced at Heero, his expression defensive, and looked away again. "He can come and get me." 

Heero nodded, considering Trowa's words carefully. "Seems to me, Tro, he already did." 

* * *

He stood at the elevator, waiting for several minutes, before giving up and finding the stairs. Pulling the door open, he shut it softly behind him and began trudging up the metal stairs. His boots echoed on the steps, and his mind rolled backwards over the last four hours. Pausing on the second-floor landing, he stretched momentarily as the interview with the agents came back to him. He'd been an hour into the meeting, and all he could think of was how much he wanted dinner and a hot shower. The agents fed him, and Heero figured that would have to do. It had taken three hours for Heero to record his entire statement, but he'd been judicious about some of what he'd explained. Unfortunately, the two agents were sharp enough to catch some of the gaps. 

"Just a few more things and we'll call it quits for the night," Agent Leaf had told him. A broad-shouldered woman, her tone was brisk, but her smile was weary. "You met with Pops on the...seventeenth of November?" 

Heero had stared at the remains of his dinner and tried to arrange his thoughts. "The day after we returned from the first job I had with the team." 

Agent Leaf nodded and tapped several times on the screen of her laptop. "It was then that...Pops...mentioned the suspicions about Mr. Barton's past, or was that later?" 

"Later, after the Asteroid job," Heero heard himself answering, but his mind was far away. 

_Should I join Preventers and help? _

"You originally had the hackers tracing banking systems..." Agent Star's deep rumble penetrated Heero's thoughts briefly. 

_Should I go back to my other life? _

"Yes, but we dropped that in favor of tackling the emails to find a connection." Heero rubbed his forehead. They'd been over his steps of the past four months. He paused briefly to consider that it was four months and one day since he'd been in Paris, shocked to see Quatre, Relena and Wufei waiting for him. 

_Will Duo join the Preventers?_

"You mentioned that Agent..." Agent Leaf coughed politely. "I'm not sure of her new title. Enny." 

_If he joins, will he want me there?_

Heero shrugged. "What about her?" 

_Can I be what Duo wants?_

"On January fifth, you said she came to visit, but you didn't say why." The woman's eyes studied Heero closely. 

_Who am I, really?_

"Personal reasons," he said, giving her a low-key glare, but too tired to push it. "She's a friend." 

_Is Duo still my friend, now that the job is over?_

"It wasn't a professional visit?" 

_Am I really Hito Yuy, photographer? _

Heero considered being offended, but shook his head instead. "No. Just a day of shopping and going out to eat. She left after midnight." 

_Am I someone Duo loves?_

"There's just one thing I've been wondering about," Agent Star said. The dark-skinned man pushed the dinner plates out of his way and leaned his elbows on the table. "How the hell did you get a bunch of reprobate hackers to help you?" 

_Could I love Duo? Do I?_

"Ah..." Heero grinned crookedly. "They found out I was a Gundam pilot." 

_Am I only a Gundam pilot?_

The two agents shared a look, and both frowned. Agent Leaf's voice was slightly disapproving. "Agent Day, why didn't you mention that the first time?" 

_I should pack, and head back to L1..._

Heero shrugged, not having an answer. "I was trying to give you the highlights." 

_Wonder if Bernie's given up on me by now._

"I'd say that's a highlight," Agent Star said dryly. 

_Maybe I'll tackle a series of color digitals of L1._

"So they just took your word for it?" Agent Leaf had set aside her laptop, and was looking at Heero with frank curiosity. 

_I wonder if Duo's staying on L2. _

"Not exactly." Heero managed a half-smile. "They tested me on things they thought only Wing would know." 

_L2 is Duo's home, and it's where he's always gone when things are over._

"I guess having a Gundam pilot in your hacker's forum is pretty impressive," Agent Star said. He chuckled and raised his eyebrows at Heero. 

_I can't be so unfair as to expect him to abandon his home to come with me._

"Still, they did huge amounts of work," Agent Leaf pointed out. "And just because a Gundam pilot asked them to?" 

_Maybe I should just go, and get in touch with him...later. _

Heero shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Not entirely. It was a trade, of sorts." 

_I need Duo, but I don't know if he needs me._

"A trade?" Agent Leaf's eyebrows shot up. 

_Does he need me, too? _

"For every...mission," Heero explained, a bit abashed at the word choice, "I'd answer a question in return." 

_I want Duo._

"What kind of questions?" Agent Star grinned. "Off the record. Just curious what those hackers would find so interesting." 

_Does he want me, too?_

Heero shrugged. "They had questions about how I hacked into Oz, and where I was at school during the war." He didn't mention their questions about Relena, or the Zero system. "And a bunch of questions about Mercurius and Vayaete. The programming systems," he added, casually. 

_I...I think I'm in love with Duo._

He didn't remember much else of the meeting, too stunned and terrified by that last realization. Heero closed his eyes, ignoring the cold steel of the steps, and leaned against the wall. He felt numb, the same bone-chilling emptiness he'd felt since the day he'd picked up a gun and killed, for the first time in five years. The only moment of life, from then until this moment in the stairs, he knew, was kissing Duo fiercely in the alley. 

Heero shoved away from the wall with a sigh, and trudged up the last flight of stairs to his floor. Staring at the number emblazoned on the door, he set his shoulders, and pushed the door open, stepping into the lushly carpeted hallway. 

What happens now? 

* * *

Heero leaned his head against the door, taking a deep breath before unlocking the hotel room door. Duo should still be out, he told himself. He'd asked around after leaving Trowa, but an agent reported Duo was still giving his statements. Heero debated telling the other man goodbye, and decided against it. 

Maybe it's better to just leave, he thought. Take some time to decide if Relena was right. 

Heero had closed the hotel door behind him before he realized someone was sitting on the edge of the bed. The shape was dark in the unlit room. The figure's head lifted, and Heero could see the braid trailing down the chest, glinting in the colony's streetlights through the window. 

"You're leaving, again," the Deathscythe pilot whispered. 

"Yes." Heero remained where he was, then took a breath and switched on the desk lamp. It provided little illumination, but it was enough to find his belongings and return them to his duffel bag. He silently started to fold a shirt, realized his hands were trembling, and gave up. He tossed the shirt in the bag, telling himself to worry about wrinkles later. Annoyed, he grabbed another shirt from the dresser. 

"Guess you learned more than just the latest hacking skills from me," Duo observed. He hadn't moved. "Looks like you also learned to run and hide." 

"I am not running or hiding," Heero said flatly. 

Liar, the little voice whispered in his head. 

Heero stared down at the shirt in his hands, realizing it was the blue Chinese silk shirt. He tilted his head as something occurred to him. Turning, he held it out so Duo could see it. "Did you...were you the one who got this for me?" 

Duo nodded shyly. 

"I like it," Heero said, brushing one hand over the knot work at the neckline. "I like it...a lot. It means...everything to me." He sighed, and let it drop in the bag, and let his mask drop at the same time. Waves of emotion suddenly crashed over him, and he started shaking. Blinking, he struggled with the pain, anxiety and exhaustion flooding his senses, along with something else he couldn't identify immediately. Fear. 

Heero ran his hands through his hair, panting. Stumbling a little, he turned, just barely making it the six feet before crumpling at Duo's feet. The longhaired man watched, his eyebrows up, but didn't move. 

"Duo..." Heero whispered, frightened by Duo's lack of response. "Duo...I..." He paused, unable to meet Duo's wary eyes. Those deep blue eyes that shaded into purple with anger, or passion, were now simply waiting. Heero hesitantly put his hands on Duo's knees, a supplicating gesture as he knelt, looking up. "In college, I read fairy tales for a class, and it was like the war. Mission accomplished, happily ever after, right?" Heero ducked his head. "I'm scared, Duo. I don't know what to do, after that. I don't know how it works. I'm not an easy person to be with. I'm only a decent cook, I don't know anything about movies, I'm not very sociable, I don't always know what to say..." 

"I'm willing to wait until you do," Duo said. 

Heero froze, his next words caught in his throat. Slowly he lifted his face to see Duo smiling at him. Tentatively, Heero gave the other man a crooked smile. 

"What happens now?" His voice was plaintive, to his own ears, but Duo's smile simply grew wider. 

Without another word, Duo leaned over, placing his hands on Heero's cheeks. The braid slithered across Duo's shoulders to land against Heero's chest, as their lips met. The touch was gentle, nothing further but a silent communication of lips and skin. Duo's thumbs caressed Heero's cheekbones. A thunderous heartbeat pounded in Heero's ears, and he opened his mouth, inviting Duo in. 

The kiss deepened, and Duo slid off the bed to kneel before Heero. When the kiss ended, with a soft final pressure of lips, Duo studied Heero's worried face for a long time. 

"I don't know," Duo whispered. "The best part about the end of fairy tales and missions is that...we decide what happens after that." 

"But..." 

"Hush," the longhaired man said, and laid a finger on Heero's lips. "We make our own choices, from now on. We are who we are, admiring public or conniving syndicate be damned. As long as we're not alone..." 

"Duo," Heero said, and kissed Duo again, uncertain at what he wanted to say. 

The kiss lasted for several minutes, fingers fisting in hair, clasping skin, bodies pressed together, before Heero could find the words he'd been seeking. They pulled apart, their foreheads pressed together, dark blue staring into steel blue. 

"Duo, you were right. I need to run and hide. I can't figure out right away what I want to do. I just need some time..." Heero kissed the line forming between Duo's brows, and smiled as he added, "but I want your help, deciding. I want...you to come with me." 

Duo's hurt expression faded quickly. His lips twitched, a hopeful look coming into his eyes. "Only if it's a place with shoji screens." 

Heero's eyebrows went up, a baffled expression. 

"And has big windows," Duo went on, the smile growing on his face. "And clothes lines with pictures hanging on them, that you run into if you're not used to them." 

"I think I can manage that," Heero said, giving a shy smile in return. "Is that all?" 

"I'm just getting started," Duo said, and kissed him again, a quick peck on the nose. "We have the rest of our lives to write this epilogue." 

~ fini ~

**Author's Note**

Whew, it's done. Never thought it'd happen, didja. One comment. Duo Priest asked something that others have mentioned: "Where does the title come from? What are the Drums of Heaven?" 

_It's from a line in a Midnight Oil song, and the quote was used for ch48. The idea of the song is that things have come to the point where they can go no further, and there's a decision to be made. That's been sort of the theme through the whole story, although I've highlighted it with a number of the choices for the opening quotes. Like Rumi's "say yes, quickly, if you know" and Peter Gabriel's "did you think you didn't have to choose / that I alone could win or lose" ... _

I wasn't certain I'd even end up using the actual quote that gave the title, let alone on the 48th chapter! But it seems to fit, since the cliffhanger revolves around the notion that someone is going to have to choose action. There's also the metaphor of drums being the pounding of the heart, and the notion that all five pilots fell from heaven in the original series, bringing with them the retribution of the colonies. Those five pilots are the drums of heaven, themselves, forcing those around them to make choices. 

And, of course, the final element is of Heero, as the heart of the pilots. The choice he has to make, of repeating his history, or changing things, and the choice to stay or go, and to fall in love or run away. The metaphor is of the drumbeat of his heart, not just in the physical sense, but the emotional. 

Once again, thanks to everyone who commented and reviewed over the past fifty chapters. It was a long, hard road, but you made it worth it, and here's hoping you like the revisions. 

Whew! Done! *doing the snoopy dance* 


End file.
